


Truly, Deeply

by GingerSnappish, PalenDrome (nerdherderette)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Background Finn/Rey (Star Wars) - Freeform, Digital Art, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Dubious Consent, Embedded Images, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Inspired by Pygmalion and Galatea (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Inspired by Ruby Sparks (2012), Kylux Big Bang 2020, Light Angst, M/M, Muse Kylo Ren, NSFW Art, Oral Sex, POV Armitage Hux, Past Finn/Armitage Hux, Rough Oral Sex, Smoking, Switching, Therapy, Verbal Humiliation, Writer Armitage Hux, references to recreational drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28019190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerSnappish/pseuds/GingerSnappish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdherderette/pseuds/PalenDrome
Summary: Writers hope to bring their characters to life, but Hux never imagined it could happen like this.[excerpt]:Hux lets out a yelp and scrambles to sit. His legs get tangled in his sheets which has the unfortunate effect of dumping him, ass first, onto the floor, but that's the least of his worries because holy fuck,there's a living, breathing person in his bed."Hux?" Apparently, the stranger is concerned for Hux's well-being, if the worry in his very deep and very sexy voice is any indication. "Are you okay?" A head suddenly appears from over the edge of the bed, and Hux stares, dazed.Because the person who's staring back, lush-lipped and tousled-maned and with biceps the size of Hux's waist, is heartbreakingly gorgeous. Mouthwateringly so."Errrrgh," Hux manages before snapping his mouth shut.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 133
Kudos: 179
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, Kylux Big Bang 2020





	1. The Opening

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much [Caisar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caisar/pseuds/Caisar) for reading this over and sharing your wonderful insight, reassurance, and support.<3 Thanks also to the brilliant [roseofgalaxies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmelyss/pseuds/roseofgalaxies); you're not not only the best cheerleader, but you also made sure my sentences flowed, my tenses matched, and, most importantly, that Hux and Kylo's story remained worthwhile. I tinkered around with this a bit afterward; all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Of course none of this would be possible without the wonderful [Gingersnappish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerSnappish/pseuds/GingerSnappish), who's such a talented and bright spot in fandom. Your input helped shape this beyond your gorgeous art, and I'm so glad I went on this journey with you! <3

_Man is said to walk with four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three at night. Too often, nowadays, do I find myself on my hands and knees._

(Untitled WIP, A. Hux, Ch. 1)

* * *

"So."

Hux rubs the armrest with the flat of his thumb. The tweed is nubby, the fabric homey yet rough. It's meant to look comfortable but it's not, and Hux wonders whether that's intentional. He's in a therapist's office, after all.

There's the squeak of a leather chair, followed by the roll of casters across the wooden floor.

"Whenever you're ready, Mr. Hux. It's your dime, as they say."

Hux arches a brow. "A dime would buy me less than two seconds of your time."

"I'm all ears." Dr. Sloane splays out her hands, palms up.

Hux frowns. He's not sure what to make of someone whose entire way of communicating seems ripe with clichés. Sloane is supposed to be a therapist—an expensive one, for fuck's sake. If Hux wanted dimestore logic, he'd go to YouTube.

He tells Sloane as much.

"If you don't want platitudes, you'll have to give me something to work with." The doctor's posture softens, although her face remains infuriatingly impassive. "Why don't we start with why you're here."

Hux runs the edge of his thumbnail along the tweed. It makes a satisfying _skritching_ sound. "My agent sent me."

"Was this the first time they suggested therapy?"

The skritching continues as Hux ponders the question. Phasma's been after him to see someone for nearly two years, but this is the first time she's been so forthright in her recommendation. If one considers a business card with a scheduled appointment slot circled ten times in angry red ink a 'recommendation.'

"It was the first time she's left little room for interpretation," Hux says, biting back his resentment.

Dr. Sloane hums and sits back in her seat. "She's made prior attempts but you chose to come today. Why?"

Hux brings both hands onto his lap and interlaces his fingers, twisting his thumbs back and forth. "I can't write," he admits. He sucks in a deep breath. "Let me clarify; I _can_ write, only it reads like something that belongs in a ninth-grade creative writing class. Or maybe tenth. My muse is proving as elusive as Moby Dick."

"Are you on the hunt for the next Great American Novel?"

Hux's mouth twists into a rueful smirk. "I won't deny it was a goal, but at this rate, I'd settle for _any_ novel."

Sloane's eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Did you encounter a similar problem while writing your debut?"

 _"Starkiller?"_ Hux unclasps his hands and huffs out a laugh. "Hardly. Ninety-five thousand words in under three months. Got an agent, was picked up by First Order Publishers, and had handed in my edits after another two. From there, it took another three months—for the final edits, printing and marketing, yadah yadah—until the book hit the shelves." Hux raises his eyes to meet Sloane's gaze. "In summary, it took just over a year for _Starkiller_ to go from a gdoc to a multi-million bestseller. So no, it wasn't difficult."

"That must have been a heady experience."

Hux notes that Sloane shies away from giving him a direct compliment. Fucking shrinks.

"It was."

"Did it make you happy?"

Hux rolls his eyes. He wasn't just happy, he'd been fucking _ecstatic_ with _Starkiller's_ success. Not only had he made enough money to pay off all his debts, the movie deal and sequels provided him with a Manhattan apartment and a bank account that ensured financial stability for the rest of his life.

"Yes. As did the rest of the trilogy, although I think _Starkiller_ was the highlight for me." Even though _Absolution_ had reached a point where it was selling nearly five-thousand books a day on Amazon, Hux was already beginning to feel burned out. "I'd never encountered a block like I have now."

"What's different this time around?"

"I'm not sure." Hux furrows his brow; he'd been able to draft _Dreadnought_ and _Absolution_ nearly as quickly as _Starkiller,_ partly because Phasma and First Order were breathing down his neck. "The Starkiller series was all I'd thought about for years. It wasn't just the writing—after that, it was the book tours, the marketing, the movies. The studio events and cons." He sighs and scrubs his face. _"Starkiller_ was published when I was twenty-five. I'm thirty now and I'm already out of ideas."

Dr. Sloane edges to the front of her seat. It's the first time she's shown more than a casual interest, Hux realizes. "Is that a world you want to revisit?" she asks.

"Nooo." Hux lets out a long exhale and looks down at his knees. He'd received a scathing review on _Absolution_ that called it a 'bloated mess,' a work 'broken under the weight of its own importance, eating its own tail for lack of any original voices to better nourish it.' The critic wasn't wrong; looking back, Hux's creativity was already running on fumes. "I want to write something different."

Sloane nods. "As a challenge to yourself, or because you have another interest?"

Hux straightens in the chair. "I don't know. I guess a bit of both?"

"You phrase it like a question. Is it because you aren't sure of the answer or because you're weighing their relative importance?"

Hux shrugs. "I have a special interest in writing a love story because it's different from the massive world-building and action scenes of the trilogy. That's not to say that a love story can't have some of those elements, but… it should be _easier._ There's less pieces to juggle. Less storylines to merge."

Dr. Sloane leans forward on her desk and steeples her fingers in front of her chin. Hux feels a prickle of unease under her sharp focus. "Is the relationship between your characters the driving force of the story?"

"Yes." Hux frowns. "I mean, there are outside sources of conflict, but I want the development—the drive—to come from the couple themselves."

"So what's your source of inspiration?"

"I…" Hux snaps his mouth shut as he chews on the answer. He must have been quiet for quite some time, because Sloane breaks the silence with a follow-up.

"When you came into my office, you said you didn't need dimestore logic. And I think you're right; you're a very logical thinker. But there are two other artistic proofs that exist in addition to logos: pathos and ethos. You want your story to be driven by its passion, to be swept away by its emotional core. But in order to really connect, it needs to feel genuine."

"To have pathos, one must have ethos," Hux intones.

Sloane nods, her face growing more animated. "So, let's start with that. Where does your credibility lie? Who, or what, are you drawing from?"

Hux thinks. He's closest with Phasma, who's been his agent from the start. He's familiar with the people in his building and neighborhood and, to a lesser extent, his fans. His romantic relationships have consisted of a series of one-night stands with the exception of a two-month mistake that ended in harsh words, slammed doors, and a broken copy of Joy Division's _An Ideal for Living,_ something that took Hux an abnormally long time to recover from. If he thinks about it, the longest relationship he's had has been with his father, and the fact that he's been estranged from Brendol for well over a decade, ever since Hux packed up his Toyota Corolla for college and never looked back, speaks volumes on how well that relationship turned out.

"I…" _Fuck._ "I don't know." Hux lets out a hollow laugh. "I guess I'm probably closest to Millicent."

Sloane's face brightens. "Let's start with Millicent, then. What is it that draws you to her?"

"She's beautiful… sleek and sweet, but with an edge of danger. She's smart, although a bit aloof. And her favorite activity is to sleep at my feet." Hux chuckles, taking satisfaction in Sloane's bemused expression. "Millicent is my cat," he clarifies, letting her off the hook.

"Ah." Sloane purses her lips, looking less than amused. "In that case, I want you to think of a love interest for your protagonist. Someone who would care for them as much as they would love and care for Millicent. Who would that person be?"

Hux bites his lower lip. He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes.

"Male. Tall and strong, with hair that's dark and long. Long and thick enough to run my fingers through." Hux smiles as an image forms in his head. 

"What else do you know about this man?" Sloane asks, her voice soft in the distance.

It's easier to play make-believe with his eyes closed, the distractions of the office out of sight, the fabric of the chair grounding him. "His name is Ben," Hux says. "He had a rebellious streak in high school… fronted some pretentious grunge rock band, skirted the rules, broke a few hearts along the way. Gave himself a ridiculous moniker, like... 'Kylo Ren.'" Hux snickers, wriggling deeper into his seat.

"Is Kylo still a rebel?"

"Yes and no." Hux lets out a long-suffering sigh, as if frustrated by Kylo's choices, then opens his eyes. It takes him a moment to adjust to the light in the office. "He comes from a close-knit family but they drifted apart. He's smart—not just academically, although he has a college degree—but hasn't found his way in life just yet. Maybe he goes into the family business—I don't know, imports, advertising, or some other occupation he has no real interest in—but he's only twenty-eight, so the spark of rebellion hasn't died completely. Kylo's tough, but he also has a good heart."

"So although Kylo has many redeeming qualities, he doesn't necessarily have the social foothold or maturity of the protagonist."

Hux coughs. "Yes… I guess so. I mean, I'm just thinking out loud here."

Sloane nods. "What about Millicent? How does Kylo get along with her?"

"Oh, swimmingly," Hux says with a laugh. "He adores her and she more than tolerates him. Which is about the closest Millicent will ever come to showing anyone affection. Well, excluding the protagonist, of course."

"Kylo sounds nearly perfect. So what's to prevent him and your protagonist from achieving their happily ever after?"

Hux rubs the back of his neck. "I guess. I mean, Kylo's not exactly perfect, but perhaps the conflict can come from the protagonist? For instance— "

The timer on Sloane's watch chimes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hux, but I'm afraid our time is up."

"But…" Hux lets out a sound of frustration. Of course, just as they're making a breakthrough, the session comes to an end.

"I think this was very productive. I'd like to meet with you again next week, but in the meantime I suggest you continue this exercise at home. Think of what else it is that makes your Ben or Kylo someone worthy to connect with. Write it down."

"Wait." Hux furrows his brow. "Connect with me or with the protagonist?"

Dr. Sloane shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hux, but we're out of time. I have another client waiting. In five more minutes, this conversation will be on _her_ dime."

Hux pushes himself up and out of his seat. He should be happy; he's done what Phasma's asked and met with Sloane, and he never promised he'd continue with these sessions. But he still feels far from free, as if he can still feel the damn tweed irritating his skin.

He's sitting in a different chair if he ever comes back. 

*

Hux knows that Sloane is a bit of a hardass, but she's also a _smart_ hardass, which is the reason he's still up at three in the morning, the blue from his laptop screen and the cityscape outside his window his only sources of light as he writes feverishly in a doc he's titled _My Fake Boyfriend._ The bottle of Corton-Grancey has long been drained, and he's dredged up his packet of Lucky Strikes from their hiding place in his desk where he keeps them for emergencies. There are already four butts on a dish bent into angry angles, ground down to their filters when he'd promised himself just one.

Hux is buzzed and exhausted, his breath sour and as dry as ash, but he can't stop. Kylo is no longer just tall and broad. He has a face that's angular and soft, with pale skin that's dotted with moles. He has a baritone voice that emanates from deep inside his chest and an intensity and charisma that can be overwhelming despite his quirky sense of humor. He grew up with parents who were the children of hippies and chased butterflies as a child, all while dreaming of becoming an astronaut and walking on the moon. Kylo is smart but he's also impulsive, oftentimes driven to act by his emotions.

Hux has spent so much time devoted to Kylo's physical and psychological characteristics that by the time he realizes he's yet to think of an occupation or surname, he's lost any capacity to come up with something meaningful.

"Eh," Hux says. He remembers his conversation with Sloane, then types in Ben [Solo] as Kylo's birth name, along with [is hopelessly in love with his boyfriend]. 

It's not Holden Caulfield, or even Humbert Humbert, but Hux can come back to it tomorrow when he can string more than two sentences together. He powers the laptop down, barely managing to pull off his t-shirt before flopping onto his bed. The sheets feel cool and welcoming, and it's the last thing he remembers before he drifts off to sleep.

*

"Fuck." Hux cracks a bleary eye and groans. He must have overslept—the room is filled with too much light, it feels like a furnace under the sheets, and he's not sure where Millicent's run off to. "Millie," he rasps, his mouth filled with cotton. He shuts his eyes and waits for her plaintive meow.

"I already fed her, babe. Threw in a bit of the turkey and the rice that was left over from last night."

Hux lets out a yelp and scrambles to sit. His legs get tangled in his sheets which has the unfortunate effect of dumping him, ass first, onto the floor, but that's the least of his worries because holy fuck, _there's a living, breathing person in his bed._

"Hux?" Apparently, the stranger is concerned for Hux's well-being, if the worry in his very deep and very sexy voice is any indication. "Are you okay?" A head suddenly appears from over the edge of the bed, and Hux stares, dazed.

Because the person who's staring back, lush-lipped and tousled-maned and with biceps the size of Hux's waist, is heartbreakingly gorgeous. Mouthwateringly so.

"Errrrgh," Hux manages before snapping his mouth shut. Even mouthwatering perfection can only do so much against a toxic mix of cigarettes and alcohol and morning breath. He shakes his head, trying to ignore the roiling in his stomach as he retraces his steps: 

He worked. He wrote. He did not go out to a bar or a club, or hire an escort.

Did he?

"Who are you?" Hux hisses. He needs some tylenol. And possibly Phasma and First Order's PR department, while he’s at it.

The hunk tilts his head, his whiskey-colored eyes widening with concern. He slips out of bed and runs to Hux's side, and, good lord, the man's huge _all over._

Hux rubs his eyes with the backs of his fists. When he opens them, the man is still standing in front of him, gaping. "Who. Are. You?" Hux repeats, pointing an angry finger.

The stranger puts out his hands and backs away from Hux like one would handle a skittish animal.

"It's me. Kylo." The man bites his lower lip. "Your boyfriend?"

"My what?" Hux starts to laugh hysterically. At one point, he thinks he might be crying.

Strong arms wrap around Hux's waist and the back of his legs, lifting him off the ground as Hux lets out a squawk. Kylo's chest is like a brick wall next to Hux's body, and he smells of Hux's soap and shampoo, too. He brings Hux back to bed, slides in next to him, and begins running his fingers along Hux's face, scalp, and neck. When those hands move lower to examine Hux's chest, Hux slaps them away.

"What are you doing?" Hux asks, his face flaming.

"Checking you out for injuries."

Millicent pads into the room. Hux stares, waiting for the inevitable tantrum that results from a stranger in the bed, but the tabby brushes up against Kylo with an imperious air then nestles inside the sliver of space between Hux and Kylo.

"I'm going crazy," Hux says under his breath.

Kylo's lips thin. "I think you had a concussion. Perhaps we should call the doctor." He hesitates, his face blank. "I'm not sure who that is, though?"

"Dr. Holdo's my GP, and no, we're not calling her." Hux tries to calm his racing heart and plasters on a smile. "Could you get me some tylenol and water? In the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Second shelf."

"I know where it is," Kylo scoffs. He slides out of bed, casting one last worried look at Hux before disappearing into the en-suite.

Hux stares at Kylo's backside—he's allowed, it's magnificent—before scrambling into action. He pulls his cell off the charging station and brings up Dr. Sloane's contact information. He's about to place the call when he hesitates.

Sloane is the only one who knows about Kylo, but the fact that Hux is seeing, feeling, smelling, and hearing a living, breathing version of someone he's imagined? He'll bypass her office and its godawful tweed chair to be admitted to the nearest hospital for a psychotic breakdown.

There's only one other person Hux would consider trusting with something this delicate.

Phasma picks up on the second ring. "Hey, Armie. How's my favorite guy?"

Hux can hear the pounding of the music in the background, the clink of weights as they settle into their slots. Phasma's probably already completed five miles on the treadmill but she doesn't even sound short of breath.

"Not good." Hux swallows when he hears the stutter in Phasma's stride. "I know you're working out, and I wouldn't ask if it weren't important, but… I need you, Phasma. I need you to get down here right now."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...broken under the weight of its own importance, eating its own tail for lack of any original voices to better nourish it"  
> -Excerpt from TROS review, Isaac Feldberg, Fortune magazine


	2. Rise

_Jimmy Olsen brought in cupcakes for the class in second grade. They were obviously homemade, and not the kind from a Betty Crocker or Duncan Hines box, either. His mom made them with cocoa powder and chocolate shavings, with frosting that was swirled in pink concentric circles that ended in the perfect peak. They were almost too beautiful to eat, and I wanted to savor mine, not having had many beautiful things in my life. So I took a little bit from the edge, swiping at the creamy sweetness with my finger. A little became some more, which turned into a lot, and before I knew it I was left with nothing on top, the remaining confection a pockmarked, sodden mess._

_I ate it, anyway. I never was one for restraint._

(Untitled WIP, A. Hux, Ch. 5)

* * *

Hux opens the door to a mildly concerned and slightly put-out Phasma.

"Seriously, Hux, what's so important that you had to interrupt my workout? This is the one day a week when the gym's not swarmed with wannabe— Oh," she says when she hears Kylo singing from the kitchen. "Seriously?" she hisses. "You hooked up with someone last night and now you want me to get rid of your mistake?"

Hux grabs Phasma's arm and pulls her into the apartment, gesturing for her to be quiet. "No. Trust me, if I hooked up with someone like that, I'd be doing everything I could to make him _not_ leave." He puts his face in his hands, his headache now dulled to a low throb. "I don't even know who he is! I mean, I do, but…"

Phasma peels Hux's hands away. She takes his chin between her fingers and tilts it up. "Hmmm. A bit red-eyed, perhaps, but you don't look like you're under the influence."

Hux shoots Phasma an icy glare. "I'm not on anything," he says, batting her away. "I went to see Dr. Sloane like you suggested. And she said that part of my problem is that I have intimacy issues—big shocker—which is why I'm having so much difficulty writing my story. Because I can't make an emotional connection with others." He pauses, waiting for a denial or affront on his behalf, which doesn't come. "Anyway, she asked me to create a character who could connect with Millie—"

Phasma arches a brow. "Millie? Why Millie?"

Hux feels the heat rise on his cheeks. "Because she's who I've had the longest, most meaningful relationship with? Anyway, Millie, by extension, means me. So I did what Sloane asked. I created someone named Ben Solo, AKA Kylo Ren. I spent over half the night dreaming up his backstory." He ignores the smirk on Phasma's face and continues. "And when I woke up, he was alive and naked and in my bed."

"That's crazy, Hux. Like, batshit crazy." Phasma jerks her gaze away from him, her blue eyes widening as Kylo enters the room with a spatula in hand and wearing nothing more than a tiny towel around his waist. "Woah."

"Heeey. I didn't realize anyone else was joining us for breakfast. I made enough for more, though." Phasma appears to melt when Kylo graces her with a blinding grin.

"Where are your clothes?" Hux asks, his voice strangled. The knot in Kylo's towel seems loose, and from what Hux remembers from the morning, a small slip will leave Kylo's ample assets on display.

Kylo's smile falters. "I… I don't know. I can't find them anywhere. And your shirts and sweats don't fit."

"I'll bet," Phasma says, choking back a laugh as she stares at Kylo's arms appreciatively.

"We'll be right back. You," Hux hisses, fixing Phasma with a scowl, "come with me."

"See you soon, Kylo." Phasma blows him a kiss as Hux tugs her towards the bedroom.

Hux shuts the door as soon as they're inside. He powers up his laptop and opens the doc.

 _"My Fake Boyfriend?"_ Phasma asks. "Way to take the assignment seriously."

"Forget about that for now. Look," Hux says, gesturing to one of the passages he wrote last night. "Tall and strong with long, dark hair. Smooth, pale skin dotted with moles. _Kylo Ren. Ben Solo."_

Phasma peers a little closer. "Actually, it's Ben-bracket-Solo-bracket."

"For fuck's sake, Phasma, this is serious!"

Phasma steps back and crosses her arms against her chest. "All right, fess up. Who's the actor you hired to pull this prank? And is he single? Because if he is, you should hit that. You guys would make a really cute couple." 

"It's not a prank." Hux bangs his fist against the table in desperation. "I don't know how it happened and I _know_ it sounds insane, but it's like everything I wrote somehow made it out into the universe and then…" He brings his hands up and out, miming an explosion. "He's the perfect boyfriend because I wrote him that way! When I woke up, he'd already fed Millie and was keen on making us breakfast. But he didn't know the name of my GP and he's been traipsing around my apartment practically naked. If I had hired an actor, do you think he'd be walking around here in nothing but a towel?"

"Depends on what kind of actor you hired," Phasma says with a smirk. She rolls her eyes when Hux gives her an indignant huff. "Fine. Prove it, then."

"What do you mean, 'prove it'?"

"Write something and make it come true. Maybe he's a Michelin-star chef or an Olympic athlete, or he's allergic to cats. Oh! Or maybe he's got a massive dick— "

"Um." Hux feels the flush all the way from his toes to the tips of his ears. "I think the last one's already been covered."

"I always knew you had your priorities in order." Phasma motions to the laptop, gesturing for Hux to get on with it.

Hux bites his lips and thinks. He doesn't do well under pressure, so he types the next logical thing after being reminded that Kylo is downstairs, prancing around and being domestic while indecently dressed.

 _Kylo's favorite outfit to wear on weekends_ _~~was a pair of jeans and~~ _

_Kylo's favorite outfit to wear on weekends are a pair of jeans that are worn through at the knees and a threadbare tee with the graphic:_ The Knights of Ren. _It's a holdover from his high school days, and it shows. The lettering has peeled in places, and at quick glance, it reads as_ The Ki ts o' Ren. _Kylo's grown a bit since then, so the shirt fits tighter than it should, not that anyone's complaining. He holds onto it like he does his alter-ego, pushing Ben Solo to the side as he waits for something greater._

"There." Hux feels a swell of anxiety as he steps away from the keyboard. The thought that Kylo is a character who's come to life is impossible to believe, but the alternative is so much worse.

 _Please don't let this be a hallucination or a bad trip,_ Hux thinks.

"Holy fuck," Phasma says under her breath as the door creaks open. "Holy. Fucking. Shit."

Kylo bursts into the room as Hux turns and gapes. His jeans are perfectly worn, the red lettering of his tee faded and peeling in all the right places. “I found my clothes after all, babe. Thank god, because the wooden chairs in the dining room are murder on my ass,” he adds with a sly wink.

For the second time that morning, Hux falls to the ground in a near faint.

*

"Hux?"

Panic rushes through Hux as Kylo's concerned visage wavers in front of him. It's _too much,_ the knowledge that there's another person he's responsible for. Hux barely manages to keep his own life and Millicent's in order. And, as cynical as Hux is, he can't just dump Kylo out onto the street, since Kylo's life experiences and knowledge are only half-written. But it's too overwhelming, too great of a puzzle for Hux to piece together in a matter of seconds.

So he does what he's always been good at. "I have to get out of here," he tells Phasma, deflecting.

Phasma places a hand on Hux's arm, stilling his movement. "You're not going anywhere. Kylo, would you mind giving us a second?"

Kylo flinches. "Yeah. Of course." He looks like he wants to reach out and touch Hux, but seems to think the better of it, wiping his hands across the front of his jeans instead. "I'll put aside your breakfast in case either of you want to eat later." He hesitates, as if giving Hux the chance to change his mind before padding out the door.

Phasma rubs soothing circles along Hux's back. "Deep breaths there."

Hux complies. "I'm okay. I mean, I'm not, but…" He rubs his hands over his face. It's not even eleven in the morning, but he already feels exhausted. "Fuck, I went to bed last night thinking my biggest problem was trying to come up with a career for Kylo."

Phasma purses her lips. "It could've been worse. It's a good thing you weren't writing about some genocidal maniac from _Starkiller."_

"Really, Phasma," Hux groans. "My personal life and career have stalled. Things are so bad I actually listened to you and saw a shrink. And now I'm supposed to manage my imploding life _and_ Kylo?" He shakes his head. "It's too much. My heart and mind aren't wired to think about someone else. I need time to think, to clear my head. Could you… would you mind staying with Kylo? Just watch him for a bit?"

"Hux—"

"I'll increase your commission on my next book to 18%," Hux pleads.

"That's assuming you _have_ a book to sell," Phasma scoffs. She rolls her eyes as Hux scoots onto his knees and begs. "Stop. I don't swing that way, plus it's a horrible look on you. I'll do it on one condition."

Hux stands, wincing. "I assume it's not out of the goodness of your heart."

"Please. You pulled me away from my workout. I left my heart and all those delicious endorphins back on the treadmill." She takes Hux's hand and tugs him towards his laptop. "I want you to write something for me."

Hux sits and waits, apprehensive. "I thought I just did."

"Give loverboy a degree in English Lit or something. We have to talk about something while you pull your head out of your ass and get your life together."

Hux contemplates giving Kylo a PhD in physics just to annoy Phasma but settles for a double major with a BA in American lit and music instead. "Satisfied?" he asks, lifting a brow.

"Quite." She crosses her arms and makes a shoo-ing motion with her hand. "Run along, now. Kylo and I are going to have a nice chat."

*

Hux loves the city. He loves its frenetic energy, the way he can lose himself in it even with his quasi-celebrity, but of course today would be the day where his luck is so bad, he can't even expect the expected. 

"Mr. Hux? Oh my god, Mr. Hux, is that you?" 

Hux turns. He curses when he spies a man running towards him, the stranger's face filled with the unmistakable excitement of recognition. Hux jams his hands into the pocket of his jeans and soldiers onward, letting out a groan when he hears the footsteps grow closer.

"It is!" The man pulls alongside Hux, completely disregarding Hux's scowl. "I met you at the world premiere of _Absolution_ and all your book signings, too. Are you working on something new?" He skips mid-stride, like a child in the middle of the New York city street. "It's gotta be a sign that I ran into you like this!"

Hux gives him the side-eye. The man looks vaguely familiar, and his face pleasant but non-descript. "I'm sorry—"

"Mitaka," the man supplies.

"Look, Mitaka, I appreciate your enthusiasm—" Hux can hear Phasma's voice in his head, warning him to be nice to his fanbase "—but I'm in a bit of a rush. I'm useless without coffee." He gives Mitaka a wan smile. "You know, to get those creative juices going. For the new book." 

Jesus, he can't even write a believable lie.

"Oh." Mitaka's face brightens. "Can I buy you a cup? It'd be an honor."

The day couldn't be more out of his control if he tried. Hux lets out a long exhale, then thinks, _fuck it._ He's heading over to Rex; if Mitaka insists on inconveniencing Hux's morning further, he's going to get something out of it. 

"Yeah, fine. I'll have a cortado. And thanks," Hux adds begrudgingly.

He takes a seat on the outside bench, allowing the physical distance to accomplish what he couldn't do with words. The irony doesn't escape him; Hux is used to a life littered with them. He closes his eyes and tips his head into the sun. It's just warm enough to be soothing, the stench and humidity of the city yet to make an appearance though it's already late spring.

Mitaka exits the shop several minutes later and nudges Hux on the shoulder. When Hux opens his eyes, he sees that Mitaka is holding a cortado and a paper bag in one hand, and an iced Americano in the other.

"I thought you might want something to eat. Not that you're a starving artist or anything," Mitaka says with a stilted laugh, his cheeks pink.

Hux would protest the stereotype—it's been years since he's been starving—but then his traitorous stomach rumbles. He takes his coffee and sits it down with an embarrassed smile as he opens the bag. The scent of butter and sugar wafts from between the brown paper leafs and Hux lets out a small, appreciative moan.

"Thanks," he says as he tears off a small corner of the croissant and pops it into his mouth.

Mitaka sits down next to Hux but is wise enough to leave space so their shoulders don't touch. 

"So can we expect a book from you soon?" Mitaka asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

Hux shrugs, then swallows a mouthful of pastry. "I'm working on it."

Mitaka leans. "Is it going to be a continuation of where _Absolution_ leaves off, or are you writing something else in the universe?" he asks with a conspiratorial whisper.

"Neither." _Absolution_ was the end of Adam's journey, despite what the fans wanted and critics believed. "I'm trying something completely different."

"Oh. That's cool." Mitaka seems to think about it as he chews around his straw. "Well, whatever you decide, it'll be awesome," he decides.

Hux picks up his coffee and snorts over the rim of his cup. What started out as a small and intimate story has ended up with a real-life plot twist that outdoes anything he's ever imagined in his previous works.

"We'll see," Hux says. He takes a slow sip and promptly chokes when his phone beeps. He looks up and catches Kylo's furious stare and two-hundred pounds of sheer muscle racing towards him from down the block.

 **_Sorry,_ ** Phasma's text reads.

Hux barely has time to place his phone back in his pocket before a shadow falls over the bench. Even though Kylo's expression is half-hidden, it's filled with unmistakable hurt.

"Hux? What are you doing?" Kylo's voice wobbles as his glances between Mitaka to Hux.

Hux raises his cup. "Getting some coffee."

"I would've gone out to get you some if you wanted— "

"Hey," Mitaka pipes up. "You're kind of interrupting us." 

Hux scoots further towards the edge of the bench.

Kylo turns on Mitaka, his expression stony. "And who, exactly, are you?"

Mitaka pales. "A concerned fan," Mitaka begins as Hux rolls his eyes. "Mr. Hux needs his privacy—"

"Thanks for the coffee, Mitaka," he says as Kylo's face morphs from angry to hurt. "It really hit the spot. But Kylo here is, ah…"

"Your _boyfriend,"_ Kylo supplies, his voice filled with indignant disbelief.

"Right." Hux chokes. "My boyfriend."

"Oh... I didn't know. You never mentioned being in a relationship in any of your interviews," Mitaka says, his voice small and almost accusatory.

"It's new... ah, relatively new." Kylo's face goes all soft and wounded, and Hux curses himself for making him so goddamn expressive. "But I'm a very private person, and I'd rather have people interested in my work than who I'm fucking. I hope you understand."

Hux stands and walks over to Kylo. The act seems to mollify Kylo somewhat, who places a hand around Hux's waist and pulls him close in a gesture that feels as reassuring as it is possessive.

Mitaka's eyes widen. "Got it. I just… I didn't mean anything by this, man, it was just an appreciation coffee, you know? You've given me a lot of joy over the years and I wanted to return the favor." He stands and slings his rucksack over his shoulder, his gaze fixated on the sidewalk. An awkward silence falls between them, and Hux fights the urge to clear his throat.

Kylo nudges Hux. "You should sign something for him," he whispers.

Hux agrees, if only to distract himself from the hard length of Kylo's body pressed along his side. He asks Mitaka for a pen; as Mitaka fumbles with the zipper of his backpack to pull one out, Hux removes Phasma's card from his wallet. He scrawls a message across the back of the card and circles Phasma's email on the front.

"Give my agent a call when the next book comes out and she'll get you a VIP experience at the New York signing."

"Thanks, Mr. Hux." Mitaka turns over the card, then places it in the side pocket of his bag with something akin to reverence. "I, uh… Good luck on your book. I can't wait to read it. And nice to meet you, Kylo. I'm sorry if I created any trouble." He gives them a tentative wave then heads down the street, the spring in his step still intact.

"That was a nice thing to do," Kylo says as Mitaka turns the corner.

"Of course you'd think so. It was your idea, after all."

Kylo turns Hux around so they're facing one another. With the change in position, Kylo's eyes are lit by the sun, and Hux marvels at how magnificent they are. He can see that they're actually multi-colored—there's a thin ring of rust-brown and green around his pupil, surrounded by irises the color of amber whiskey.

"You're not acting like yourself," Kylo says. He swallows, and his Adam's apple bobs along the long line of his neck. "Is it… is it because of last night? When I told you that I loved you?"

 _Oh, shit._

"No." At least with this, Hux can be honest.

Kylo looks doubtful. "You say that, but… you didn't stay for breakfast. I thought it might have been because you were hungover and because of your fall, but..." He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, causing it to stick out at several angles. It shouldn't look as attractive as it does. "I followed you to make sure you were all right, only to find you having breakfast with another man."

"Mitaka is a total stranger. He's a fan. That's all."

Kylo's cheeks grow pink. "About what I said last night. I know you haven't said you love me back. I'm not pressuring you to."

Hux feels himself stumble at the revelation. Apparently, Kylo's found him worthy of that declaration, but Hux can't reciprocate the show of trust and vulnerability even within his own fucking story. "I, uh—" He swallows as his mind draws a blank. 

"I don't want you to say anything you don't mean. It just slipped out. But I won't say it again if it makes you uncomfortable."

"That's not it." Hux knows this isn't real, and there's a small part of him that feels the _wrongness_ of it all, like he's somehow taking advantage of Kylo. His doubts fall by the wayside, however, when Kylo hooks his fingers into the belt loops of Hux's jeans and pulls him close.

"So what is it then?" Kylo murmurs. His lips brush against the corner of Hux's mouth, and Hux feels his body light up like a flame.

"I like hearing you say that," Hux admits. It's been too long since anyone's told Hux they loved him and forever since he's said it back. He pushes down his guilt and allows himself to have this moment as he sinks into Kylo's embrace. He winds his hand around the nape of Kylo's neck and feels Kylo shiver under his touch.

"Come," Hux says, his voice thick with promise. "Let's go back home. I'm going to make you repeat those words and a whole lot more."

*

Hux kicks the door closed with his heel as they spill into his apartment, his hands scrabbling at the hem of Kylo's shirt. He groans when Kylo cups his ass and squeezes, which is quickly swallowed when Kylo swoops in for a kiss.

"I need you naked. Now," Hux says when he finally catches his breath.

Kylo tugs his t-shirt over his head. The opening catches against his chin, and when it finally comes off, Kylo shakes his hair, gracing Hux with all its full glory.

"Jesus fucking Christ. I feel like I'm on the cover of a Nora Roberts novel," Hux mutters.

Kylo lets out a soft laugh as he leans down to nuzzle the crook of Hux's neck. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh, causing Hux to shiver.

"You're going to mark me up, you brute," Hux grumbles, his hands fumbling with Kylo's zipper.

"You know you like it." Kylo looks up from where he's sucking on Hux's skin, his mouth already swollen and wet.

Hux runs his fingers along the outline of Kylo's cock. "I know what else I like," he purrs as Kylo bucks into his touch. "The question is: what do you want?" He's not certain what they've done; he never got that far in his descriptions.

"Fuck me, Hux," Kylo says. "I need you in me, now." He kicks off his shoes and shucks off his jeans, his underwear quickly following.

Hux gapes as he watches the muscles in Kylo's eight-pack ripple. "Yeah. I can definitely do that," he croaks, dragging his eyes back to Kylo's face.

Kylo gives Hux a knowing smirk. He leads the way to the bedroom, his hips swaying and the globes of his ass bouncing as Hux hurries to rid himself of his own shirt and jeans. By the time Hux has joined him, Kylo's already on his back, his hips canted forward and the bottle of lube open as he pumps two fingers in and out of his hole on top of their bed.

"Come on," Kylo rasps. His voice is throaty and his cock juts towards his belly as his fingers disappear between his cheeks. "I'm still loose from last night."

Hux doesn't exactly leap onto the bed but it's a close thing as he tries to rein in his eagerness. He pours a dollop of lube into his hand and slicks his cock, trying not to be overwhelmed as Kylo watches him with eyes that are dark and half-lidded.

Hux throws the bottle of lube to the side and gently pushes Kylo down onto the mattress. He drinks in the sight, taking in the unique angles of Kylo's face and the layers of softness that belie his sheer physicality. He leans over and kisses his way down Kylo's body, smiling as Kylo arches into the touch. Kylo's nipple hardens in the heat of Hux's mouth as Hux suckles gently.

"Hux," Kylo moans, his cock twitching against his stomach.

Hux grabs the base of his prick at the sound. It's been so long since he's been with anyone; he's not going to last, especially with Kylo panting and writhing so wantonly.

"Kylo, I..." Hux swallows as Kylo moves, causing the hot length of his cock to rub against Hux's skin. "I need to fuck you, now."

Kylo pulls Hux in for a long, drawn-out kiss. "Do it," he says, sounding equally as needy as he wraps his hand around Hux's prick. "I want to feel you in me."

He hikes up his knees and Hux nearly comes from the sight of Kylo's glistening hole, pink and swollen and shiny with lube. He shifts so he's positioned between Kylo's thighs, and when he presses the head of his dick against Kylo's hole, it doesn't take much to sink into Kylo's wet heat.

"Fuck," Hux groans as Kylo clenches around him. He forces himself to think of month-long tours, sweaty crowds, and pushy agents. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." 

Kylo shifts. He's got a pained look on his face and he's biting his lower lip, and Hux wonders if it's to prevent him from making any loving declarations. Kylo meets Hux's gaze, and his eyes are soft and filled with wonder as he brings his hand up to Hux's cheek.

Hux is tempted to lean into the touch. He draws back instead, gritting his teeth as he snaps his hips forward. He knows it's lust that's driving him now. He doesn't know Kylo, not really. There's nothing more than the words he wrote in a drunken, sleepy stupor. There's nothing more to the soft skin that's glistening with sweat, or the breathy moans that Hux elicits with each slam and twist of his hips.

Perhaps it's the way Kylo's body fits Hux so perfectly, or the fact that it's been so long since Hux has had such an incredible fuck, or the headiness of having a living, breathing canvas to play with that Hux loses control. He manages to thrust three more times before he's coming with a shout, Kylo's massive body shuddering beneath him.

*

The buzz of his cell jolts Hux out of his slumber. He lunges towards the nightstand to take the call. 

"Yeah," he says, sotto voce, as he gently extricates himself from Kylo's arms. He stands and covers Kylo with a sheet.

"So what are you doing with Kylo?" Phasma asks as Hux tiptoes out of the room and shuts the door.

"Besides fucking him? Because I just did, and it was incredible." Hux stretches and yawns, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

"Hux," Phasma groans.

"Believe me, it was fully consensual. In fact, I think I'm going to keep him around for a bit."

"You're treading in murky waters, my friend," Phasma says, her voice radiating her disapproval.

"Look, you're the one who sent me to Sloane. And I did exactly what she asked."

"Sloane told you to imagine someone you could see yourself having a relationship with. But Kylo's not just a half-formulated idea that's taking up space in your hard drive. He's real."

"Yes." Hux snorts. "Kylo's a real, live boy."

"This isn't funny, Hux. Putting aside the ethics of it, it's an insane amount of responsibility for someone to take on. Especially someone like you."

Hux grits his teeth as the remnants of his post-orgasmic high bleed away. It's been less than six hours since Kylo literally dropped into his life, and he can't even enjoy the gift of Kylo's unexpected company without being confronted with its repercussions.

"What would you have me do? Send him out onto the streets of New York? Kylo might look like a grown man and, thanks to you, he now has a useless bachelors, but in terms of his development he’s the emotional equivalent of a toddler."

Phasma remains quiet for a long moment. Hux grimaces and looks down at his phone to make sure they're still connected.

"You could delete him," she finally says.

A wave of nausea washes over Hux as he visibly recoils. "I'm not doing that," Hux says, choking at the thought. "That's even more cruel."

"Is it?"

Hux pinches the bridge of his nose. All he wants to do is crawl under the covers and wriggle back into Kylo's arms. "It's research, Phasma," he finally says, bringing out the big guns. "Sloane told me my block was due to my inability to form close relationships with others. To trust someone. To love. I've already formed a connection with Kylo. If you make me delete him now, think of what that'll do to my psyche. Not to mention my creativity."

Hux can hear Phasma's muffled curse. "You have to treat him well," she warns. "Kylo's not a play thing. He's a person, with his own thoughts and desires. And the longer he stays with you, the truer that will be."

"I knew you'd see it my way," Hux says with a grin.

"You're an ass."

"And you and your bank account love me for it." Hux makes a kissing sound before hanging up, then makes his way back to the bedroom.

Despite Hux's efforts to be quiet, Kylo opens a sleepy eye and gives Hux a quizzical look. Hux shakes his head and smiles.

"Business. But it's all sorted; we shouldn't be bothered anymore today," he says, pressing a kiss against Kylo's lips and sliding into the bed beside him. Kylo hums, the vibration of the sound stirring something in Hux's chest. Hux focuses on Kylo's contented purr, letting it drown out the whisper of his guilty conscience, pushing the jagged truth of Phasma’s words into the background where its barbed edges can do no harm.


	3. Climax

_I always thought 'Be careful what you wish for' was a ridiculous idiom. Money can be earned, favor purchased, and knowledge gained, but love? Love is nebulous, pure and necessary, for how can one live without it? What is life without it?_

_Any fool can see that 'love' is the answer. Yet life seems determined to test my foolish heart, many times over._

(Untitled WIP, A. Hux, Ch. 12)

* * *

"Godammit," Hux mutters under his breath. He pulls off his glasses and scrubs his face, letting out a long sigh as he deletes the entire scene. Perhaps he needs to revisit his outline.

An iced coffee appears at his side. Condensation drips down the side of the glass, the edges of the ice cubes softening as they swirl around the thickly rimmed bottom. 

"Don't," Kylo says as Hux reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his bottom drawer. "If you need to work off your stress, I can think of better ways."

Hux meets Kylo's twinkling eyes head on. "I swear, you have the refractory period of a teenager." It's been two months since Kylo literally dropped into Hux's life, and the sex has somehow managed to be even more brilliant than when they first started. Unfortunately, Hux's writing has been much less satisfactory.

"I don't hear you complaining." Kylo kisses the corner of Hux's mouth. Hux feels his eyelids fluttering close in response.

"That's the problem," Hux sighs as Kylo makes his way to the bookcase on the other side of the room. Hux opens his eyes in time to catch Kylo giving him an inquisitive look. "With the book, I mean. I'm nearly a third of the way in and there's no conflict, no tension. Readers may want a happy ending, but it means little if there's no crisis to overcome to get there." He rocks onto the back legs of his chair and stares at the ceiling as he contemplates his protagonist. "Maybe Jordan should have a terminal illness."

Kylo hums under his breath. "Channeling your inner John Green?"

Hux tilts forward, his arms flailing as his chair hits the ground. "I know, it's shit," he groans. He twists backward and watches as Kylo peruses the books on the second shelf and lingers over the titles. "I don't have a single original idea left."

Kylo apparently finds what he's looking for; he pulls out a book and points it towards Hux. "Characters with chronic and terminal illnesses are the subjects of lots of stories. It's what you plan to do with it that counts."

Hux startles when he sees the book Kylo's holding. "It was much easier when I wrote _Starkiller,"_ he admits, grimacing at his bestseller. "Good and bad. Light and dark. Bravery and sacrifice in a time of war."

"It's a fantastic backdrop for a summer blockbuster," Kylo says. "But the reason it resonates with readers is because, in addition to the battles and political intrigue, you ground it in something relatable: the conflict within Adam himself." He drops the book next to Hux then wanders onto the balcony, where he rolls out his mat and begins his morning meditation.

Hux blows out a long breath. Kylo's right, of course. It's amazing how the same person who delights in something as simple as the perfect sunnyside-up can wrangle Hux's runaway thoughts into something sensibly brilliant.

Hux drops all pretense of writing to watch as Kylo strips off his shirt and sits, the waist of his pajama bottoms settling low along his hips. His posture slowly relaxes as he settles into his pose. He's gorgeous and considerate, sexy and smart, and even after two months of dealing with Hux's eccentricities, he shows no signs of leaving.

Realization hits Hux and knocks him for a loop. Kylo not only has a closet for his clothes and a designated side of the bed, but the traces of his existence are also all over the apartment—in the foods that crowd the refrigerator, the detergent that washes their clothes, and the yoga mat that's now displaced Hux's lounge chair on the narrow balcony. But it's more than the physical touches: Kylo is the first thing Hux turns to upon awakening, the one he turns to first when seeking advice on his book, and the person he kisses every night before sleeping.

There's a flutter in Hux's chest. He wonders if Kylo could be the one—the one worth the risk of baring his heart, of breaking the pattern where he's forever waiting for the other shoe to drop.

*

The clanging of pots and pans is not an ideal way to start a Saturday morning. Hux rolls over on the bed with a muffled curse, only to find empty space beside him. He misses waking up to soft breaths against his neck and strong arms wrapped around his waist, and there's no one to help take care of his morning wood, either.

Hux slings his legs over the side of the bed and stumbles into the kitchen. Millie gives him a look, her ears flattened against her head as the banging grows louder.

"Jesus, Kylo, it's 8:30 in the morning," Hux grouses as Kylo's head pops up from behind the kitchen island. Kylo's hair is still sleep-mussed but his cheeks are pink, and there's an intensity in his eyes that may be from anxiety or anger. "I thought you left your garage-band days behind."

Kylo straightens to his full height. He's wearing jeans and a graphic tee instead of his usual state of early-morning undress, and something about the change makes Hux take a step back. 

"I wanted to make breakfast," Kylo says, almost petulantly. 

Hux glances at the fridge. "There's eggs and milk and bread," he says slowly. His eyes stray towards the pantry; he's pretty sure he bought some of that cereal Kylo seems to like. The one that tastes like twigs. "And muesli," he adds with a shudder.

Kylo opens his mouth. He stands there silently until his shoulders suddenly droop and he seems to deflate. "I'm tired of muesli."

 _Hallelujah._ "I'll never buy another box again," Hux says, crossing his heart.

Kylo's lips thin. "I'm tired of eggs and toast, too. That's all I've eaten for weeks."

Hux feels his heart stutter. It's not a fight, exactly, but it's the first time Kylo's expressed any dissatisfaction. He steels himself, trying not to fall into his typical pattern of avoidance. "Tell me what you want. I'll run to the store and get it." Well, maybe after he's had his coffee.

"Maybe I could go with you."

Hux is about to scoff at the idea—after all, he's offering to go on an errand run when they should be in bed—when he sees the hopefulness in Kylo's eyes, the way they've turned a deeper brown, earnest and pleading. Kylo must sense his hesitancy because he doesn't wait for Hux's response before pushing forward.

"Please, Hux. I'm…" He pounds his fist against the countertop, visibly frustrated. "I feel like I'm stuck in a time loop. I get up, make us breakfast, read, and meditate. Then I eat lunch, work out, read, and make dinner. And then I do it all over the next day."

"You forgot about having wild, crazy sex," Hux says drily, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can take them back. "But you're right," he hastens to add as Kylo's eyes narrow dangerously. "We've been stuck inside a lot." Hux's muse has returned with a vengeance, and he spends most of his day writing. He hasn't given much thought to how Kylo spends his time while Hux is otherwise occupied.

"So can we? Go shopping?" Kylo persists.

Hux tamps down the guilt that's wormed its way into his stomach. "Of course." 

"Thank you." Kylo ducks his head, but Hux catches the relief that spreads across his face. He pours some coffee from the French press into Hux's favorite mug and hands it over. "Let me know whenever you're ready," he adds as Hux accepts the peace offering greedily. He brushes his lips over Hux's forehead then saunters out of the kitchen, whistling a jaunty tune.

Hux sips the brew. It's deep and rich, and sweetened with just the right amount of sugar and cream. _Kylo really is the perfect_ _boyfriend,_ Hux thinks as he takes another sip. Perhaps Hux can thank him with a quick blowjob before they leave.

*

Hux considers grocery shopping a necessary evil. It's one more chore that pulls him away from the middle of writing a scene, an obligation that must be dealt with when there's a single egg left in its carton or milk that's nearing its expiration. There's no pleasure to be had in navigating his way around a barrage of shopping carts or coping with screaming children and coupon ninjas.

The wheels of the shopping cart he's wielding rattle against the tiled floor. They started the trip with Kylo on cart-duty—Hux made sure of that—but the sheer variety of produce and bulk items had Kylo zig-zagging between displays. The tipping point was when Kylo nearly clipped the heel of another shopper in his hurry to reach the baked goods. Hux took control of the cart reluctantly, leaving Kylo to dart amongst the aisles like a whirlwind.

Hux is waiting at the end of the beer aisle and looking down at his nails when he's suddenly shocked out of his boredom.

"Hux? Wow, it's really you." The voice hasn't changed a bit over the last three years. It's still low, with a charming accent that softens its brashness. 

Hux grits his teeth and turns around. 

"Finn." The shift in position puts them close enough that Hux can sniff out the familiar pine and cedar of his ex's soap. Or maybe it’s sandalwood; it’s funny that this is what Hux remembers, after all this time. "You're back in town," he adds, silently kicking himself for stating the obvious.

Finn nods. "For about six weeks. Then I'm heading back to LA." He tilts his head, his eyes dark and assessing. Finn always had an uncanny way of calling out Hux's bullshit. It's one of the reasons why they hadn't worked out, given their fragile artistic egos and all. "You look well."

"Thanks. You too." Hux takes a deep breath and wishes Kylo would hurry along. "I heard you're seeing someone."

Finn's eyes widen. "Yeah," he says as his mouth settles into a genuine smile. "Rey. We met on this special crossover episode of our shows, and it's been, well… "

"Love at first sight?" Hux hazards with a quirk of his brow.

Finn's smile grows even bigger. "It's only been a couple months, but yeah, that's close enough."

A flash of irritability shoots through Hux. It's a reminder of their own failed relationship, one where Hux couldn't make any concession or commitment, whether it was to coordinate his visits around Finn's more unpredictable schedule, or saying 'I love you.' "Well, don't forget to invite me to the wedding," he deadpans.

"Absolutely. With a plus-one, of course, " Finn snarks.

"Actually…" Hux cranes his neck and tries to scout out Kylo amongst the shelves and shoppers. It shouldn't be this hard to find someone who's six-foot-four and built like a truck. "As it stands, there _is_ a plus-one in the picture."

"Oh yeah? I mean, not that there's actually a wedding or anything right now, but wow… that's great, man. I'm happy for you." Finn, despite his obvious shock, looks like he genuinely means it.

"It's been nice," Hux says, surprising himself with how true the statement is.

"Look... I know you didn't ask for it, but I can see how gone you are on whoever you're with and I'm going to give you some advice. I'm not sorry we didn't work out because it appears we're much better off, but a big reason why we broke up is because you never opened yourself up to me. We were together for months but it might as well have been for days. Outside of your work or sex? Man, I know nothing about you. And I'm not sure if it was because you were scared or that you didn't care to let me in. But this new thing you have? Let me tell you, it's not going to work out in the long run if that doesn't change."

Hux takes a step back. "You're right," he says, trying to rein in his anger. "I didn't ask for your advice. Plus, I wasn't the one who canceled dates left and right because of some fucking promotion or interview."

"No, you were the one who put the 'run' in 'fuck-and-run.'"

The throbbing between Hux's temples grows more insistent. "You owe me twenty-five hundred bucks for my Joy Division LP."

Finn snorts. "That thing isn't worth a thousand."

"It's the twelve-inch, limited-edition, unofficial release!"

Finn rolls his eyes and heaves a loud sigh. "You know what? I'm feeling super generous right now because life's good and I'm in love and I don't want any bad karma lingering from the mistake that was us together. I'll forward you the money if it means that much to you." He sidesteps Hux. "See you around."

"It's not the same as the thousand dollar version," Hux can't help adding. "You can't even find that particular EP through normal channels."

Finn's already made his way past Hux but he turns around slowly. "Some things can't be replaced once they're broken. Glad you realized that finally." He tips two fingers against his head in a mock salute and disappears down the frozen food aisle.

Hux sags against his cart. His mood perks up a bit when he sees Kylo approaching the cart with a huge grin.

"Find what you were looking for?" Hux asks. He tries to peer around Kylo's back where he's obviously hiding something. Whatever it is, it's not worth the time Hux had to spend with Finn.

"I got you the perfect beer," Kylo says, practically dancing with excitement. He pulls out the two longnecks he's holding in one hand, his grin growing wider as Hux splutters.

"Arrogant Bastard Ale?" Hux chokes out.

Kylo places the beers in the cart. "The beer server said it had a hint of caramel but to be prepared for the bitter."

Hux turns to Kylo and pushes his index finger against Kylo's chest. "Are you calling me bitter?" Wow, now he has to add 'bitter’ to 'washed-up at thirty.' 

"No, I'm calling you an arrogant bastard," Kylo teases. He lifts Hux's finger off his shirt and places it against his mouth. It's warm and sensual, and if Kylo wraps his lips around it, Hux will be lost. He catches Kylo's wrist, beseeching him to stop.

"Are you happy?" _With me,_ Hux wants to say.

Kylo's face is open and guileless. "Yeah. This place is awesome." He leans forward and plants a kiss on Hux's cheek, and some of the worry in Hux's chest eases. "This was the best morning I've had in awhile. I wish we could do things like this more often."

Finn's warning rings in Hux's ear. "I'm on it," he says. He knows what to do to show Kylo he's the thoughtful and considerate person Kylo deserves.

*

There's a piece of advice in writing circles that one should write every day, even if it's just a little, even if the words are mundane or the inspiration is shit, just to establish writing as a habit. For as non-zen as Hux is, he appreciates a more intuitive approach: eat when hungry; sleep when tired; write when you have something to say. Plus, there's a part of him that balks at commands and absolutes. But he's taken on the task of writing _something_ every day for the last month—ever since the run-in with Finn—and he's made that task, even if just a sentence or two, about Kylo.

Hux figures that if forcing daily writing is a lifelong habit, then the case could be made for restructuring what has been, by his own admission as well as the opinion of others, a life where his only plus-one until now has been Millicent. His musings seem trivial at first: there's a line about Kylo's favorite toothpaste and how he loves the taste of it on Hux's lips; a bit on Kylo's affection for Chewie, a massive, chocolate-colored labradoodle who Kylo adored as a child; and scenes from Kylo's early years, ones that highlight his natural curiosity and shy demeanor. 

But these things, while fleshing out Kylo's past and character, aren't things that necessarily push Kylo to grow. They remind Hux of a sock drawer, something that can be neatly organized or completely overstuffed but looks the same from the outside, regardless of the quantity or quality of its contents.

So he begins to write with broader strokes, gifting Kylo with things that he can use to continue the thread of his own story. He has an apartment in Chelsea on 20th Street, in an old, brownstone walk-up. He gets a job at Legends Books, a small bookstore overrun by hipsters and NYU students and filled with comfy armchairs less than ten blocks from Hux's apartment. He has a bit of a devil-may-care attitude and comes home at varying times of the day because he doesn't believe in taking the same exact route twice.

And because it's more convenient for Kylo to walk to work than deal with the mad crush of people on the subway, Kylo _chooses_ to stay over at Hux's more often than not. Hux has the mornings and afternoons to focus on his writing, and evenings are reserved for dinner and conversation.

And sex. The sex… Well. It's been bloody incredible.

The thought puts a smile on Hux's face as he heads over to Waverly Place. He's finished a crucial scene in his novel and he wants to share the good news with Kylo. Perhaps it's the exuberance of the crowd or the unseasonably warm weather, or maybe it's the fact that his cynical heart still has a soft spot for the place where beat poets like Dylan and Ginsberg once thrived, but Hux feels something lift in his chest as he breathes in the energy.

The door to the bookstore sticks a bit before opening and sets off a bell overhead. There are several customers milling about; Hux takes a moment to scan his surroundings before spotting Kylo in the corner. He's with another employee, and there's a cardboard box sitting on the floor between them. It looks like they're supposed to be stocking the shelves, but their heads are drawn together as they huddle over something Kylo's holding, their shoulders touching.

The rush of joy thrumming through Hux suddenly sours. He walks over, blood pounding in his ears, and coughs. Loudly.

Kylo looks up. Surprise slides through his face; his lips part and his cheeks pink before he sputters back to life. "Hey..." He moves forward, then seems to think the better of it, and rocks back. "Is everything okay?"

 _It was._ "I had some time and was hoping to take you to lunch," Hux says stiffly. "But I can see you're busy."

"No, I'm…" Kylo looks down at his watch. It's one of those ugly Casios that was popular in the 80s; Kylo found it at the local thrift store and treats it like it's the newest Apple. "I can take my lunch break now." The person next to Kylo clears his throat and Kylo looks to the side, his face reddening further. "Uh, Hux, this is Thanisson. Thanisson, this is my—"

"Boyfriend," Hux suggests through gritted teeth. It wasn't too long ago that the situations were reversed, and the irony doesn't escape him.

"Boyfriend," Kylo agrees helplessly as Thanisson stares at Hux with an awestruck expression.

"You didn't tell me your Hux was _the_ Armitage Hux!" Thanisson says, turning to Kylo.

There's a noticeable tension in Kylo's shoulders. "Didn't think I needed to."

"I'm a bit of a sci-fi and fantasy geek. Like, my prize possession is the limited edition, first issue of the _Star World_ comic," Thanisson explains to Hux. His eyes are brown and large and doe-like beneath a fringe of long lashes, and Hux bets Thanisson can soften stone with that gaze. "When you came out with the _Starkiller_ trilogy, it was like rediscovering _The Lord of the Rings_ all over again. Just—holy shit, Armitage Hux! I can't believe you've been holding out on me all this time!" he says, pushing against Kylo's shoulder.

"Well," Hux says, somewhat mollified. "I appreciate the comparison. And the _Star World_ comics are some of my favorites; they were definitely a big part of my life." Hux has lost track of the number of times the comics were the only avenue of escape between his parents' bitter fighting, their acrimonious divorce, and his father's drunken mood swings.

"I was so bummed when I missed your last book tour," Thanisson mourns. "Everyone loves _Starkiller,_ but I loved _Absolution_ just as much. I was doing a semester abroad when it came out; I was nearly late for my midterm because I was hunting down a copy in Rouen that day."

Hux arches a brow. "You could have downloaded it online and spared yourself the trouble." 

Thanisson waves his fingers. "There's something about the weight of a book, the turning of a page as you're waiting to see what happens next, that's just lost on a Kindle." He turns his hand into finger guns and points them at Kylo. "That's why Kylo and I do what we do, I guess."

"I'll sign a copy and send it over to you," Hux says graciously.

"Wow, man, thanks! That's really awesome of you!" Thanisson leans over to Kylo and whispers loudly. "I still can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"I only get forty-five minutes for lunch so maybe we'd better go. If Thanisson's okay with putting away the rest of these," Kylo adds a bit guiltily.

"Yeah, yeah, of course! We'll talk more when you get back." Thanisson goes back to shelving the latest YA bestseller as Kylo hangs up his employee's vest and badge and walks out.

Hux sees the hard set of Kylo's jaw as Kylo strides down the street, fast-paced and with his back rigid. He feels his anger rising. 

"Is there some reason why you don't want people to know we're dating?"

Kylo doesn't answer. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks faster. 

Hux reaches out and grabs Kylo's arm with enough force to stop him in his tracks. "I think I deserve an answer."

Kylo stares, working his jaw obstinately before the fire dies from his eyes and he seems to deflate. "I work in a bookstore, Hux. You're a writer."

"Yeah, and…?" Hux isn't following Kylo's brand of logic.

"You're a _famous writer._ I… " Kylo removes his hands from his pockets and clenches, then unclenches, his fists. "When I got my first job, in the summer right before college, it was working for a friend of the family. My mentor for my MFA was a colleague of my uncle. This is the first job where I've gotten it on my own merit—"

Hux looks away at the irony, the guilt clawing at his insides. If Kylo only knew.

"—and I'm proud of that, you know? I don't want people to think I got this because of favoritism, and I'm glad I can finally contribute something to our relationship even if it's the occasional cheap takeout."

"Oh," Hux says, his stance softening. He lowers his hand from where he's still clinging to Kylo and holds Kylo's hand, thumbing the back of it gently. "I thought… you've stuck around with me nearly as long as anyone else, and I thought… "

"You thought I didn't want to be with you? I love you, Hux. I thought I made that clear. I just haven't said it much lately because I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable since you're not ready to say it back."

Hux reminds himself that even though he's only known Kylo for several months, in Kylo's mind, they've been together for much longer. He tries to calm the jumble of thoughts in his head and chooses his words carefully. 

"I think the idea of love is beautiful," he says slowly. "But I also think it can be one of the most painful things around. When I was a child, we learned there were different types of families. That people can live together and be supportive of each other, and be happy and love one another, even without a blood connection.

"But that also implies that love in a biological family is a given. And for a seven-year old kid whose parents spent their last years together insisting their relationship was a mistake, that" —Hux's words are choked off as he blinks rapidly— "that _he_ was a mistake, the idea of romantic love has never reconciled itself with my own experience. I don't think I've been able to say those words to anyone since."

Big, warm hands cup Hux's face. "I don't want you to say it unless you mean it." The rough pad of Kylo's thumb draws down Hux's cheek, lingers on the corner of Hux's lips. "I'm not going anywhere."

Hux closes his eyes. "Thank you." 

"C'mere." Hux opens his eyes. Kylo gives him a tug and drags him to one of the stores two blocks down. It's filled with inexpensive jewelry: sterling silver bracelets and rings decorated with cheap gemstones, the kind that accumulate in a tangle at the bottom of a jewelry box years later after they're bought. He looks through one of the trays and picks up a ring. It's thicker than the others and bordered by hexagons stamped with a starburst pattern.

"Don't freak out," Kylo says, pleading. He slips it on Hux's right hand, a smile breaking across his face as it sits perfectly against the base of Hux's ring finger. "I really like this design. It's not like a proposal or anything," he adds as his skin flushes brightly, "but it's a promise I'm here for the long haul."

Hux blinks rapidly. "I love it." He stares at the ring, feels the warmth of it on his skin, then picks up a matching one. Biting the bullet, he slips it onto Kylo's finger. He can't say what he feels in his heart, not yet, so he watches Kylo's reaction warily.

Kylo stares, his eyes darkening. Then he lowers his head, angling for Hux's mouth as Hux tilts up to meet him. It's not a soft kiss; instead, it's insistent and a bit desperate, as if to convey their commitment with every press of their lips and sweep of their tongues. Kylo tastes of mint gum, his mouth heated as he pulls back and tugs down on Hux's lower lip. Hux feels the flesh swelling as Kylo licks and sucks, and the vibration Kylo's pleased hums leave against his mouth. Hux's cock stirs, and he rolls his hips to meet Kylo's own palpable erection through the layers of their jeans.

"Fuck," Kylo groans. His hands settle along Hux's hips as he pulls back reluctantly. Hux nearly follows and lets out a whimper. "We'd better stop or we're going to get into some serious trouble."

Hux tears his gaze from Kylo's swollen mouth and catches the movement of the salesperson close by. Her head is ducked, her face bright red, and she's studiously avoiding his gaze.

By the time they pay for the rings, Kylo only has twenty minutes left for lunch. They end up getting a grab-and-go and eating their meals by the fountain at the park. 

"I wanted to get you a real lunch," Kylo grumbles around a mouthful of gyro.

Hux takes a sip of his drink. The sun glints off his ring, and between the emotions it brings and the warm weather and his full belly, he's feeling awfully lazy.

"It's all good," he says. If he were a bit more coherent, he'd be able to tell Kylo that what he really meant was that everything is better than good. That it's been what he's wishing for this whole time, but was too afraid to dream of. That it's real and perfect.

*

"Hold still," Hux says. Kylo watches as Hux's fingers pull the end of the tie through, leaving the knot to sit flat against the notch of Kylo's collar.

"I don't know why I have to wear one," Kylo says, grumbling. "You're the one who's important, not me."

Hux clucks in disagreement. "First Order parties are affirmations of power and position just as much as they are an excuse for free booze. You reflect me."

"Damn. And to think I almost wore pajamas."

"Funny," Hux snorts. "You're toeing the line with this outrageous pattern as it is." He points to Kylo's tie; unlike Hux's own in a staid black silk, there are dusky red orbs scattered irregularly against a silvery polka-dot background.

Kylo looks up at Hux. "I picked out this pattern for you. As a nod to _Starkiller."_ He looks down. "A planet amidst the stars."

Something warm settles in Hux's gut at the confession and he finds himself fussing with the end of Kylo's tie as a distraction. "All done," he proclaims as he straightens out the ends against Kylo's torso.

Kylo twists his neck, visibly uncomfortable. "How long do we have to stay?"

Hux shrugs. "Ten… maybe eleven. You're the one who wanted to go," Hux says. He would have been happier making his apologies and spending the holidays elsewhere.

"Actually, it was Phasma who said you needed to go. I said it sounded like fun," Kylo reminds Hux. He takes a step back and Hux sucks in a loud breath.

The vision of Kylo nearly knocks Hux off his feet. There's no question that Kylo is stunning, whether wrapped in a towel or lazing about in a t-shirt and worn jeans. But with Kylo dressed like this— in a dark grey suit that fits him impeccably, the silk and wool material hugging the lines of his chest and waist in a way that's almost-too-tight but not quite—Hux has to hold back on stripping off every article of clothing and foregoing the party altogether.

Hux points a finger at Kylo. "I'm putting you in charge of Phasma Duty," he says. "Your job is to shield me from her devious ways, especially when I'm compromised."

"You mean when you're drunk?" Kylo asks, huffing out a laugh.

"Yes. As well as any time she starts a sentence with 'Remember that time when I...'" He takes a deep breath as Kylo pulls him into his arms.

"You don't have to go if you really don't want to. Phasma will understand," Kylo says as he rubs soothing circles along Hux's back.

Hux tilts his head forward. "Unfortunately, I do. I could get away with not attending these things at the height of my success. But the movies are done and I've pushed back submitting my manuscript for over a year. Snoke's only loyal to his latest success. If I can't give him another bestseller, or at least look like there's one in the works, he'll drop me from First Order in a second, _Starkiller_ trilogy or not."

Kylo holds Hux tighter. "Then let's show Snoke what he stands to lose."

*

It's only been half an hour since they arrived at Snoke's lavish penthouse yet Hux feels as if his face is going to crack from the rapid cycling of smiling and teeth-grinding he's doing. He hasn't seen Snoke yet, and all Hux wants is to pay his respects and hightail it back home as soon as it's socially and professionally acceptable.

Kylo hands him a flute of champagne. "You look like you need this," he says as Hux looks at him gratefully.

"Is it that bad?" Hux asks as he takes a sip.

"Well, if anything, you can take pleasure from the fact that you're making a dent in his supply of Cristal," Kylo teases.

"I hate this." Even the book and press tours over the years haven't softened Hux's distaste for the pressing of the flesh. He's fine with one-on-one interviews or speaking in front of a crowd. But mingling and socializing makes him feel distinctly uneasy, especially when he's the bait in a sea of sharks.

He scans the crowd and relaxes slightly when he sees Phasma standing by a wall of windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline and the Hudson. She looks beautiful, smart and composed, and her ruby-red lips are curled in a smile that Hux knows can quickly turn barbed.

"Who's she with?" Kylo asks, following Hux's stare.

Hux makes a face. "Enric Pryde. He wrote _Insidious_ and _Steadfast_ and put First Order Publishers on the map thirty years ago. I actually fell in love with sci-fi and fantasy because of his books, before I realized he was a total dick."

"Ah. What else has he written?"

Hux smirks. "Nothing noteworthy. You're more likely to find his latest in the bargain section at Walmart. It doesn't matter, though. He's been with Snoke from the beginning, so unlike the rest of us he's nearly untouchable and he knows it."

"Is Phasma repping him too?"

"Not unless she wants to lose me as a client." Hux drains the remainder of his glass as his lips thin. "Pryde never hid his dislike of me after the success of _Starkiller._ In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he was the unnamed source who supplied the tabloids with rumors that _Starkiller_ was plagiarized."

Kylo's fingers tightened around the stem of his glass. "That's ridiculous."

"It is, and there was never anything to substantiate the accusation. Phasma and First Order's PR team did a good job in handling it, and by the time the first movie came out, people had moved onto other, more salacious things." _Like the fact that Finn and I were fucking,_ Hux thinks with a grimace. "The worst thing was that I thought Pryde was my friend. I idolized his works as a kid and we both wrote for the same genre. But he allowed my friendship just so he could keep a close eye on me."

"And then he stabbed you in the back," Kylo says quietly. ""But not everyone in the business is bad. Take Phasma, for instance."

Hux shrugs. "I love Phasma. After you, she's probably my favorite person in the world. But if the next hot thing requires her time while I'm floundering, there's no question who she's going to focus her energies on." He lets out a long sigh. When he looks up, he sees that Kylo's watching him with a stunned expression. "What?"

Kylo's face pinks. "Did you mean that? When you said I was your favorite person in the world?"

Hux feels his face heat.

"You're here with me, aren't you?" Hux says, side-stepping the question. It's been too many hours since his last cup of coffee and he's running on fumes. "I'm going to get something to eat. And a refill," he adds, holding up his glass. "Do you want one, too?"

Kylo shakes his head. "I'll meet you back here. Going to use the bathroom."

"Keep the tie on," Hux says, the words coming out unusually fond. He weaves his way through the crowded room, past the servers balancing trays of canapes and caviar until he reaches the bar. There's an attractive bartender who greets Hux with a bored expression.

"Whiskey sour. With Basil Hayden's, please."

"I'll have what he's having," Phasma says as she slides alongside Hux. 

Hux can feel her disapproving gaze. When they finally get their drinks, Hux raises his glass.

"This isn't prom," Phasma says in response.

"Awww, shucks. And I got all dressed up in my Sunday best for nothing."

"Hanging out in the back, away from the cool crowd, isn't doing you any favors."

Hux snorts. "What do you want me to do? Fawn over Pryde and his court of sycophants?"

Phasma rolls her eyes. "Pryde's a dick who lost his appeal twenty-five years ago. You need to remind Snoke of what you're worth and re-take that crown." She grabs Hux's free elbow and turns him around to where Pryde has situated himself in front of the best view of the house with his agent, some starry-eyed newbies, Snoke—

—and Kylo.

Kylo, who's smiling as Pryde leans in. Sure, it's not the smile Kylo reserves for friends like Thanisson, and definitely not one that's soft and vulnerable like the ones he saves for Hux, but it's still a smile, nonetheless. It's a smile that Pryde uses as an excuse to lean into Kylo's personal space, and Hux doesn't even realize he's holding his breath until Pryde reaches out and grabs Kylo's tie.

"Uh, Hux? What are you—?"

Whiskey sloshes over the sides of the glass as Hux slams his drink on the counter. He stalks over to the group, his vision going red when he realizes that Pryde is still touching Kylo.

"Enric," Hux bites out, knowing full well how much Pryde hates his birth name. "Mr. Snoke," he adds, a beat too late.

"Ahh, Hux. It's been a long time," Pryde says. His fingers linger on Kylo's tie before he finally lets go.

"I've been busy," Hux grits out.

"Yes. Thought it might be a case of writer's block, but I see you've been otherwise occupied." His pale eyes track up and down Kylo's form appreciatively.

Hux grabs Kylo's hand and pulls him back. "I could say the same. Tell me, just how lucrative is the writing seminar circuit nowadays?"

Pryde's smile grows brittle as several of the guests begin to laugh. "Are you planning an early retirement?"

Hux shrugs. "Figure I'd learn from the best."

"Mr. Hux, a word?"

Hux swallows his pride at being singled out but he knows he can't burn bridges with Snoke, short as they are. He sees Kylo hesitate from the corner of his eye and he shakes his head, willing him to stay.

"Good to see you as always," Hux says quietly as he approaches Snoke, painfully aware of the eyes and ears around him.

"I wish I could say the same," Snoke says as Hux's heart stutters. "I indulge Pryde because he keeps himself in the public eye, thus keeping him relevant. After all, for every single Pynchon the public remembers, there are a hundred Stephen Kings."

"I did all the publicity you requested." Hux complied despite hating everything about those tours: the travel, the hotel rooms, the jet lag, the crowds.

"For which First Order Publishers is grateful. But readers are fickle nowadays. Sometimes your reputation is only as good as your last book, and well" —Snoke gestures to the bodies around them— "in another month, who knows what other writer will take your place?" He leans in, gesturing to where Pryde is eyeing Kylo covetously. "Do what you need to secure your position, or else this might be a distant memory."

*

Hux grabs the side of Kylo's hips and pounds into him, the headboard of their bed hitting the wall. Kylo's already come once, and if his increasingly erratic breathing is any indication, he's close to doing so again.

"C'mon baby," Hux grits out. Maybe it's the alcohol, but the sex tonight is too unhinged, too raw. Hux feels his muscles spasming, along with a desperation that comes when he's trying to get off but can't quite make it.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck…"_ Kylo chants in the background, breaking Hux from his spiraling thoughts. Kylo's entire body shudders, his hole clenching around Hux's cock, and Hux stifles a groan because he's so close yet so far. "Hux, I can't… hold it… come on, come on," Kylo begs with a broken sob. He lowers himself onto his elbows, the change in position finally wringing out Hux's release as Kylo comes in his hand. They tumble onto the bed afterwards, and Hux isn't sure if the bile he tastes is because of a toxic mix of endorphins and adrenaline or the residue of too much alcohol and a bitter fog.

"Sorry," Hux whispers as he pulls out. He stands, his muscles screaming in protest as he stumbles his way to the bathroom. He rinses his face, then wets a washcloth with warm water and makes his way back to the bed. 

Kylo watches as Hux wipes him down. "What's gotten into you tonight?" Kylo slurs, his eyelids drooping.

"I told you I hate those things," Hux says. "And I really hate Pryde." He sucks in a long breath as he thinks about how solicitous Pryde was towards Kylo, right in front of Hux's face. _"Really,_ really hate him. I wanted to rip his hands off for touching you."

"I had it handled," Kylo says sleepily. When Hux doesn't respond, Kylo lifts himself onto his elbows. "I did."

Hux places the washcloth on the table. "It didn't look like you did," he says, unable to meet Kylo's gaze. "Or that you necessarily wanted to."

"You told me that my actions would reflect on you. The last thing I wanted to do was cause a scene." Kylo turns onto his side and forces Hux to look. "Before you came over, I reminded Pryde that the _Starkiller_ trilogy and merchandise were our strongest sellers. I let it slip that it's popular across all age groups and that there are no signs of its popularity dying down. Snoke was there as well. That's why Pryde was trying to goad you."

"So you really didn't need me."

Kylo's eyes had already drifted shut. "Nooo… " he says softly with a smile, the word trailing off.

Hux gives Kylo a sideways glance. Kylo's eyes remain closed, his breaths deepening as he mutters something about knights and shiny armor and kink. He looks so peaceful, and Hux feels a prickle of envy before letting out a harsh laugh.

Kylo may be his creation, but in their current story, he's almost too good, too perfect. Now Kylo has said he doesn't need Hux's help, and the thought of him growing more independent and distant leaves Hux with an aching pit in his stomach. He lies in the dark as Pryde's smug expression and Snoke's warning cycle through his head. Minutes turn to hours, and as the city lights that are visible through the window dim, Hux feels his life slipping away as everything important crashes down around him. He reaches out for anything that can stop the unraveling, something to salvage the happiness of the last several months.

Hux crawls out of bed, carefully drawing the sheet over Kylo's slumbering form before making his way to his desk. The computer chimes, and the light of the screen is harsh and accusing as Hux begins to type:

_Four months into their relationship, as the seasons slide from summer into fall, Kylo clings to Hux like a leaf to a branch in the wind, desperate and moody._


	4. Fall

_ The street I lived on as a child had five houses on the right and four on the left, the asymmetry due to the fact that Mrs. Porter lived in the home that was once the grandest in the neighborhood, with the largest yard, but was now thought to be haunted. If one were to face north, you would see two grand sycamores on the left and a majestic elm on the right. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can see the sidewalk bleeding into the pavement, the smooth, gray ribbon broken by a singular crack in the asphalt that defies the town's attempts to patch it winter after every winter. I can smell the sweet anise of the goldenrod blooms in the summer and the clover of spring, and I know I am home. _

_ Life, as I've learned, is filled with many roads: highways, causeways, side streets, corniches, crossroads. All serve their purpose, and all are worthy of metaphorical wisdom. _

_ Of course, there are also dead ends. Roads without any return. _

(Untitled WIP, A. Hux, Ch. 22)

* * *

Hux stares at the cup of Earl Grey that's placed in front of him. It sits in his favorite mug, at the right temperature, and is a perfect milky brown.

"What's this for?" he asks, unable to keep the annoyance from his tone.

Kylo shuffles his feet. "You're writing. You said tea always gets you in the right frame of mind."

This was the fourth cup of the morning. "Not if I have to get up every thirty minutes to piss." 

"I'm sorry." Kylo looks devastated and his chin wobbles. "I can get you something else instead."

What Hux really wants is to have three or four hours of uninterrupted peace and quiet. He bites back a retort, one where he tells Kylo that he's a grown man who can get his own tea and lunch and take a piss without any assistance, thank you very much. He frowns as he remembers that it's Wednesday. 

"It's fine. Don't you have work today?"

Kylo wrings his hands. Hux has the urge to grab them and hold them still. "I called in. Thanisson owes me, anyway."

_ Fuck. _ "Any plans to… ?" Hux lets the suggestion hang. There's a growing desperation when Kylo chooses not to answer and starts picking at the thread of his ratty tank top instead. He's been wearing the same outfit for days, and Hux suddenly realizes he can't remember the last time Kylo was back in his own apartment. "Don't you have any shopping to do? Laundry, or… ?"  _ God, something. Anything. _

Kylo gives him a wounded look. "You're trying to get rid of me," he says flatly. His eyes are dark, appearing brittle and bruised at the same time. 

"No, it's just… I—" Hux reaches for something plausible that won't set Kylo off on another tangent and then inspiration strikes. It's the perfect way to preserve his sanity and deal with both Phasma and Kylo before things get out of hand. "I just need to make a call." He pulls out his cell, looks at Kylo who's watching him with a suspicious expression, then dials Phasma's number and moves into the next room.

"Hey, Armie." She sounds out of breath, and there's the noise of traffic around her and a child yelling in the distance. It sounds chaotic, yet Hux would gladly trade positions at this very moment.

"Is this a bad time?"

"It's only because it's you that I'm not hanging up." There's the blare of a horn, the sound pitching high before winding down, and Hux hear's Phasma's  _ My eyes are up here, fucker!  _ in response.

"Listen, that thing you wanted me to do?" Hux takes a deep breath and hopes he's not trading one disaster for another. "I'll do it with a couple conditions: first, Pryde  _ never _ knows about this, on penalty of death. Second, if I get hit on by some bored housewife who considers me her escapist fantasy for an inattentive husband and two bratty kids then you'll never, ever ask me to humiliate myself in this way again."

Phasma lets out a deep-throated laugh. "I love you, Hux, but seriously? You're prickly at best and a total ass at worst. You’re no one's escapist fantasy."

"Hasn't stopped them before," Hux grouses, thinking about the meet-and-greets with all the unwanted touches and flirty comments. "Now what about Pryde?"

"I'll do my best. But this is a public event which means we need publicity. How are you going to attract attendees, otherwise?"

"I don't know, couch it as something different. Loop it into  _ Starkiller's _ fifth anniversary, with a special writing exercise in world-building, just… don't pitch it as a writing seminar." After the debacle at Snoke's party, Hux knows there'll be no saving face if Pryde finds out.

"Fine. I'll oversee the marketing. So what are we looking at? Six months?"

"What?" The word comes out as a croak. "That's too far away. Can you do it in a month?"

There's a long pause. "One month? Hux, are you looking to  _ lose _ money on this proposition?"

Hux grimaces. "We can advertise on the different fansites. Pick a venue close by—not in the city," he adds hastily, "but somewhere close enough that I can drive there for a weekend. I'll take my own car, you won't even have to reimburse me for travel expenses or the hotel room if you can't recoup the cost. Please. I really need this," he finishes, lowering his voice as he hears banging on the other side of the wall.

"Six weeks, and if we don't have enough registrants at the end of three to make at least double the cost, we're going to cancel the event and you'll make it up to me with a weekend away at the place of my choosing." Phasma lets out a huff and hangs up.

Hux stares at his phone for a moment. He sighs, then walks out of the room, nearly colliding with Kylo.

"Were you listening to my conversation?" Hux asks, his eyes narrowing.

The muscle in Kylo's jaw ticks. "Are you going away?"

"Phasma's been trying to get me to do one of those writing seminars. To keep me relevant in the public eye." Hux rolls his eyes. The words taste sour, lodging in his throat. 

"Are there going to be a lot of people at this thing?"

"Hopefully? That's kind of the point. There needs to be enough interest so I won't be indebted to First Order for yet another thing."

Kylo lowers his gaze. "I heard that families and partners sometimes go on these things, too. So it doubles as a conference and a getaway."

Hux hesitates. "It's really for die-hard fans. I'll be going over the series, answering questions, doing some writing exercises—nothing terribly exciting. I'll be in classes all day, so I won't really have time for sight-seeing or anything else."

"I see." When Kylo looks up, the trace of hope in his eyes is snuffed out the longer Hux remains silent. It twists Hux's gut, but not enough to mar the relief he feels when Kylo doesn't pursue it further.

*

There's no question that the Catskills in autumn are at the height of their glory. The mountains are paint-splattered in fiery reds, oranges, and yellows; the temperatures lower so beanies and down jackets are no longer purely hipster fashion; and the sun is overly bright, casting its glow over relics from another era and making them appear quaint and magical. 

Even so, the hotel still reeks of sadness, from its teal carpet carpet to its floral bedding, and the staff seem either close to retirement or months out of high school. She's like a grand old lady whose best days are long past, and Hux tries not to think it's an omen of sorts.

"I think it went well," Hux says as he sips his tea. It's in the fifties—unseasonably warm—but as the sun dips behind the trees a chill runs through him and he pulls the sleeves of his cable-knit sweater lower.

"It was successful from a financial standpoint—which reminds me, don't forget to hand in your receipts. But you looked as excited as a fox at a chase." Phasma watches Hux, her gaze sharp and assessing. "Why don't you tell me why you really wanted to do this seminar? You've turned me down for years. You don't need the money, you're not ready to promote anything just yet, and you hate anything that forces you to smile and be polite for more than ten minutes."

Hux considers turning this into a competition with Pryde, but he knows it won't fly. Phasma's brilliant and ruthless—which is why he likes her—but it also means she sees right through his bullshit.

"I needed to get away," he admits grudgingly. "Kylo was… Things are getting a bit suffocating."

Phasma raises a perfectly shaped brow. "Oh?"

Hux places his teacup onto the saucer. It clatters as it lands, and a bit of Earl Grey spills over the rim. Hux takes a napkin and mops the mess. "It started after Snoke's party. Pryde was goading me and then Snoke reminded me that there were all these new writers nipping at my heels. I felt like everything was slipping away, and when we got home, I…" Hux swallows. "I tinkered around with Kylo's characterization. In the doc."

Phasma's eyes widen. She's quiet for a moment, as if choosing her words.

"That's fucked up, Hux. Even for you. Kylo's not some character in one of your stories—at least, he hasn't been for months—and despite this whole ‘we live in a matrix’ theory, you're no longer the programmer behind the curtain. At least I hope you're not, or else we're all royally fucked."

"Don't you think I know that?" Hux hisses. He watches as Phasma roots around her purse for a pack of cigarettes, then takes one as she holds it out. There's a sizzle as the match strikes the strip of phosphorus; Hux places the cig in his mouth and leans in. "It's not like I haven't tried to edit it out," he finishes, sucking on the stick greedily.

"How?" Phasma lights her own cigarette before dousing the flame. She leans back in her seat and crosses one leg over the other and waits.

"When we got back from the party, I tried to make him less independent. But then he was too clingy. So I tried to course-correct: I wrote a scene and attributed it to a misunderstanding. I even gave him another hobby to try to make him more independent, but it's like he's caught between being needy and paranoid and surly."

Phasma shakes her head. "You're Frankensteining the poor boy. You can't go back and piece together the things you want and take them out when they don't work. He's been out in the world already. He's a person whose growth—whose feelings—are dictated by things happening off the page. No wonder he's all over the place." 

Shame floods through Hux. With the cards laid out so plainly, Kylo's emotional whiplash makes absolute sense. 

"Did I fuck things up irreparably?" Ash lingers in the back of Hux's throat, and he can't catch his breath as bile and panic well up inside him. "I can't leave him like this. I have to fix it, but I don't know how."

All pretense of casualness drops. Phasma uncrosses her legs and leans across the table, entering Hux's space. "So treat him like the person he is, Hux. You can't wipe the slate clean every time there's a problem— god knows, it would've saved me a lot of aggravation with my exes if that were the case. The more Kylo's out there in the real world, the more he's going to change. It's going to happen, independent of you, and independent of what you've already written. What would you do if it were anyone else? How did you manage your problems with Finn?"

Hux rubs a hand through his hair. "That's just it. I'm shit at dealing with people. I've never had a healthy relationship. That's what led me into this whole thing with Kylo to begin with." He glares at Phasma as he remembers that it was her idea to meet with Dr. Sloane.

Phasma lets out a small huff. "Don't give me that look. Put on your big boy pants and do the right thing."

"What if I fuck it up even more?"

"So you fuck it up even more. That's life, my friend: living and learning." Phasma stamps out the stub of her cigarette viciously. Hux watches as the glow of the paper turns ashy then dark. "Whatever you do, don't write anything more unless it's…" She stops, then waves a hand in the air, as if to say,  _ forget it. _

"Unless?" Hux persists.

"Unless it's something definitive that there's no coming back from it. Like... if Kylo were to die."

Hux rears back in shock. "That's fucked up, Phas!"

Phasma meets Hux's angry gaze head-on. "I'm not telling you to do it, just reinforcing my point. As tempting as it is not to, you need to handle your issues with Kylo like any other couple. Stop making his story one-sided, unless you're prepared to deal with the consequences."

Her warning lingers long after they've finished their tea and Hux has packed up the car for the ride home. He opens his phone, and when he sees the picture of Kylo he uses as a screensaver, the ache in his chest grows. It was taken the week Kylo appeared in Hux's life; in it, he's rumpled and sleepy and looking at Hux with a smile that's soft and open. 

Hux isn't sure what caused that smile to disappear. It might be because he's muddled things up with his writing or because he hasn't been an ideal partner, but either way, he has a knack for fucking up everything he touches.

*

"Hux?" The look on Kylo's face when he sees Hux at his door is wary and confused. "I thought you weren't coming home until later tonight."

"I— " Even though it's warmer in the city than upstate, Hux shivers. He hunches into himself and wraps himself in the thick knit of his sweater. "I kind of broke six or seven traffic laws getting down here as fast as I did. Can I come in, or—?" There's a noise that sounds like a crash coming from inside Kylo's apartment, and Hux takes a step back. "I should've called first," he says, face flaming. "I didn't realize you had company."

"I don't. It's the TV. I'm not even sure what's on, I just like having noise in the background while I'm cleaning."

Hux scrunches his nose. "You do?" He doesn't remember Kylo ever wanting the television on before, preferring to listen to music on his airpods.

Kylo twists the ring on his finger. The one Hux gave him a couple months ago. The one he thankfully is still wearing. 

"Yeah. Didn't want to bother you," Kylo says with a sheepish grin. 

"I'm such an ass," Hux groans. He takes a step forward, not caring that he probably smells like musty hotel rooms and sweat and a whole day of travel. "Mi casa is su casa, okay? If I made you feel otherwise… " He stops, the heat prickling along his throat. "No, I know I made you feel otherwise," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "Which is why I'm here."

Kylo steps back from the door. He sweeps a hand in front of him in a grand gesture of welcome, and Hux realizes with a pang that he's never  _ seen _ Kylo's place, not really. He knows that the walls are creamy enough to be considered an off-white but too pale to be beige, and that there's a pair of framed movie posters— _ Star Wars: A New Hope _ and  _ Blade Runner _ —that could possibly be originals. He has a vague idea of the layout, and has seen the way the apartment spills from its decently sized living space into a small kitchen. But he's never really spent time here; there have been no dinners, no Netflix, and definitely no overnights. Now, seeing the driftwood coffee table with its knotholes and irregular edges, the orange-colored couch with the textured fabric and sunken cushions, and the book on a rickety side table that lays open, dog-eared and bookmarked, Hux realizes that Kylo's apartment is filled with personality and light. That it looks like a  _ home. _

"I would have made you something if I knew you were coming over," Kylo says as he tracks Hux's gaze to the small kitchen beyond the living room.

"Please don't," Hux says, his throat tight. "Don't apologize for… for things you have no need to apologize for in the first place." He finally feels a bit warmer and digs his hands out from where they've been tucked into his sleeves. "Besides, if anyone needs to be saying sorry, it's me."

Kylo opens his mouth but snaps it shut, his brow furrowing as he waits for Hux to continue.

"Sooo…" Now that he has Kylo's undivided attention, Hux has no idea what to say. He certainly can't confess that his God-complex contains a kernel of truth. "I know I haven't been the easiest person to be around these last few months. And it has nothing to do with you—"

Kylo takes a step back, his face paling. "You're giving me the 'It's not you, it's me' speech, aren't you?" he says as he sinks onto the couch.

"What? No, I… well maybe, in a way? But not in the way you're implying," Hux adds upon seeing Kylo's hurt expression. "I've never had a lot of friends. I have a lot of acquaintances, but when it comes to people I truly trust, I can count them on one hand. I'm set in my ways, I'm judgmental as fuck, and even my best friends would call me an ass." Hux knows he has a terrible habit of pushing people away whenever they get close—Finn, Phasma, even Dr. Sloane. It's the coward's way out, to be so emotionally unavailable that people leave of their own volition.

Kylo frowns. "This sounds like a confessional, but I'm not sure what exactly you're confessing to. Unless something happened this weekend," he adds, his expression shuttering.

"No! I really was teaching a writing seminar, and it was just as dry and uneventful as you could imagine." Hux bites his lip. "Except something  _ did _ happen, because being away from you made me see how important you are to me." He sits down on the couch next to Kylo and holds his hand; Kylo holds himself stiffly but doesn't move away. "I'm bad at this. At relationships—I have a hard time keeping my own life in order, and when you throw someone else into the mix... I don't know what I'm doing half the time, but I don't want to lose you. To lose us."

Kylo tilts his head and looks into Hux's eyes, as if trying to divine the truth. "It takes two people," he says slowly. "I haven't been the easiest person to be around."

His guilt over his ever-changing-moods makes Hux feel worse. He stares down at their hands, at the rings that knock against one another, bruising the metal.

"Hux. Don't leave me hanging."

_ Tell him. Use your words. _ "I took so many things for granted," Hux says with a strained laugh. "I came here to tell you that I was sorry, that I was going to try to be more attentive, more respectful, but… "

Kylo lifts a brow. "But… ?"

Hux avoids Kylo's gaze as he gathers his thoughts. He looks over Kylo's shoulder, past the living room and down the hall, and he's a bit awestruck at the fact that this space never existed six months ago. Hux may have been the catalyst, but it came to life because of Kylo's tastes, as the result of his choices. The realization causes the words to finally find their way onto Hux's tongue. 

"I've been going about this all wrong. I've been trying so hard to get you to fit into my life that I completely missed out on the fact that you… well, you have a life of your own. You already fit into my life. Now I want to fit into yours, too."

It's possibly the sappiest thing Hux has ever expressed, but he can't be too embarrassed because Kylo smiles in response, a soft, slow one that lights up his face from the inside out. He crooks a finger at Hux; as Hux shuffles over, he grabs a hold of Hux and forcibly lifts him up so that Hux is straddling Kylo's thighs. Kylo leans in, his gaze growing dark in a delicious swirl of shyness and desire.

"Finally," he blurts out. "Took you long enough."

Hux feels Kylo's nose brush against his cheek. He closes his eyes and lets himself breathe; he revels in the clean scent of Kylo's soap, the roughness of his stubble. Kylo's grip tightens along Hux's hips as Hux lets out a moan, then Kylo's mouth slots gently against Hux's lips, teasing them apart.

Hux loses himself in the kiss. When he finally pulls away, the room spins and his head is floating.

Kylo nuzzles Hux's neck. "See how easy that was?" he asks as his arms wrap around Hux's shoulders. "Your words are beautiful. They give me life."

Hux lets out a sound that's caught between a laugh and a sob. It's chaotic, unsettling, easy, and perfect. And for the first time that weekend, Hux knows what it means to feel warm.

*

"Do you ever decorate? Pay homage to the season or do you keep the space the same, three-hundred sixty-five days of the year?"

Sloane responds, her gaze steady and tone neutral. "Is it the same? The chair may be of the same design but there's a lot of people who've sat in it, same as you. Take this, for instance." She pushes Hux's file from the center of the desk to the right-hand corner.

Hux frowns. "It's still a file. That's its essence. It's immutable."

Dr. Sloane opens the file and scribbles something in the notes. Hux wonders if it's a thinly veiled existential challenge. "The answer to your question is 'no.' I don't decorate based on the time of year. It's not to say I don't change things around occasionally, but I don't believe there's been anything new since I last saw you last" —she glances down at her notes— "over seven months ago."

Hux's cheeks heat. "I've been busy. Things are… good. Or at least, they're better. I've been writing. Not as quickly as my agent would like, and it's hardly the next Great American Novel. But I  _ am _ writing. It's different. I'm in a different headspace. The whole process is different."

"In your first session, you mentioned you wanted to write a smaller, more intimate story. I suggested an exercise to connect with your character. Did you continue, and if so, how did it work out?"

Hux squirms in his seat. He wants to confess, but the truth guarantees him a trip to the ED for a different sort of psychiatric evaluation, so he says what he can. Truth, through omission.

"Well enough that I can rely on an actual relationship as the basis for my writing."

Dr. Sloane gives him a practiced nod but her eyes sparkle with interest. "How is it? Being in a relationship?"

"Great." Hux rubs his chin. "And also scary. It's not easy for me to open up."

"When you say 'open up,’ are you referencing your life or your emotions?"

"Both." Hux raises a quizzical brow. "Aren't they one and the same?"

"Oftentimes, but not necessarily. People can occupy the same space but remain emotionally closed, for instance. Are they a writer as well?"

"No. He works in a bookstore." Hux looks down, unable to hide his smile. "He once told me that my words gave him life."

Dr. Sloane smiles. "You seem happy, despite your reservations."

"We have our ups and downs, like any other couple, but things with Kylo are… good."

Dr. Sloane draws in a sharp breath. Her eyes flick to Hux's chart; when she returns her attention to Hux, her expression is unreadable. "Your partner's name is Kylo?"

_ Fuck. _ "Kyle," Hux corrects with a strained laugh. "What are the odds? And he  _ is  _ tall and was the lead singer in a high school band and he has dark hair and a good heart." He tries to remember what else he told her in their first session but decides to quit while he's ahead. "I didn't seek him out. He just kind of dropped into my life."

"You once said I dispensed dimestore logic. But there are truths in sayings. Things like: good things happen when you least expect it."

"Are you sure this is a good thing?"

"Isn't it?"

Normally, Hux would be balking at the shrink talk, chafing at the open-ended questions that seem to lead to nowhere, but he finds himself willing to share. 

"Yeah. I guess it is." He fills her in about his breakthrough at the writer's workshop and how he's trying to be more cognizant of Kylo's needs. He admits that his writing is still not inspired, but that the words are coming more easily. He confesses that Snoke's comments and Pryde's jibes have poked at the raw edges of his insecurities, the part of him that thinks his success is due to imposter's syndrome. But he acknowledges a life beyond his writing. That having someone in his life who considers him worthwhile of their time and love is reaffirming and grounding.

By the time his hour is up, Hux is not only drained but shocked he's spilled so much. To his surprise, Dr. Sloane lets go of her professional facade and gives him a genuine smile.

"We covered a lot of ground today. There was a lot that you shared, and it was a great start. I'd like to see you next week, so we don't lose momentum." She glances at her calendar. "Would you be able to come in on Monday, the 21st?"

"Unfortunately, no. We're flying to Hawaii on the 20th." Hux can't help the burst of pleasure that floods through him at the thought. "It's our first trip together."

"That's wonderful. Is it for business or pleasure, or a little bit of both?"

"Pleasure—twelve days of island hopping, nature hikes, and sunny beaches. I'm going to be a gauche tourist."

"There's nothing gauche in allowing yourself to do the things that make you happy." Dr. Sloane pulls out her card and writes something across its front. "Let's shoot for the week after you return. Monday, the 4th?" When Hux nods, she notes the date and time on the back and hands him the card. "I've included my emergency contact information, if you should need it. Otherwise, have a wonderful holiday, and I look forward to seeing you when you get back."

"Thanks. You, too." Hux tucks the card in his pocket, but it's more lip service at this point. After all, he has nearly two weeks with Kylo in paradise. What could possibly go wrong?

*

Hawaii is more beautiful than Hux imagines. He only wishes he could enjoy it at a time when he wasn't gasping for air.

"I'm going to be incapacitated for the rest of this trip," Hux pants. His lungs are burning, and that's nothing compared to what's going on in his ass and thighs. 

Kylo turns. Hux makes a motion to continue; they're standing in the middle of what seems like an interminable number of stairs made of old railroad ties, and although he'd give anything to stop, he has a feeling his body will rebel if they don't continue to move. 

"We'll rest at one of the military pillboxes at the top," Kylo says as he resumes his pace, his voice loud and clear and free of any signs of distress.

Hux barely manages a nod. He has always been leanly built, but the limits of his physical activity is limited nowadays to subway stairs, pushing around a grocery cart, and getting up from his chair. And the sex, of course—although he might not have that to look forward to, since his body is an aching, shuddering mess. 

He pushes ahead, trying to focus on his inhalations and exhalations, on the rhythm of his feet as he chants the beat of a soldier's march in his head, one-two, one-two. He tries to ignore the times when people bypass him to the side, especially when a few hardy souls take the steps two at a time, although he can't help grimacing when a local woman at least twice his age skirts by him and waves.

Finally, the horizon widens, the expansive blue waters of Hanauma Bay and Port Lock Peninsula a welcome sight. Hux takes a break—the last stretch is proving devastating to his lower body—but at least he's not the only one benefitting from a stop after each set of steps.

"You okay, babe?" Kylo asks. He holds out a water bottle and Hux drinks from it greedily.

"I'll be a lot better once we get to the top." Hux twists his mouth into what he hopes passes for a smile as he gives Kylo a wavering thumbs-up.

"You can do it!" a woman shouts as she passes them on her way down. "The view's totally worth it!"

Kylo comes over and nuzzles Hux's cheek. Even though they're both sweaty from the heat and the exertion, Hux finds himself leaning against Kylo, luxuriating in the support. 

"I'll carry you up the rest of the way if you want," Kylo teases.

Hux gives Kylo a half-hearted bump in the chest. "I'm sorely tempted," he says, and considers saying 'yes,' just to see what Kylo would do. "But I've got this." He straightens his backpack as Kylo secures the water bottle in the side pocket. They forge ahead, braving the remaining twenty steps, and Hux heaves a sigh of relief once they finally summit.

"Wow," Hux whispers, taking a moment to finally appreciate the beauty. The sides of the mountain are dotted with wildflowers and lush greenery, and the clouds are thin and low, which affords them views as far as Diamond Head. There's an old military bunker at the top that's graffitied in a riot of colors where several other hikers are resting. Hux takes out his phone.

"I thought we said no work." Kylo says. There's unmistakable disappointment laced in his words.

"I'm not," Hux says with a shake of his head. He didn't bring his laptop on the trip for a reason, although he did load the docs app onto his phone (it's a long flight from New York to Honolulu, so sue him). "Picture time," he says, brandishing his cell like a weapon. "I need proof. Phasma will never believe I did this hike and survived."

"Today would have been a success even if we only made it halfway," Kylo says earnestly.

Hux arches a brow. "How do you figure?"

Kylo starts ticking off the reasons on his fingers. "One: we're spending the holidays in paradise, and it's eighty-five degrees and perfectly sunny. Two: you're trying something totally new. Three: we're doing it together—"

Hux's cheeks flame. "Technically, that's four or five reasons. And you're such a sap."

"Yeah. But I'm your sap." Kylo undoes his hair tie, brushes the strands of hair away from his face, and gathers them back up into a bun. Sweaty wisps remain stuck to his forehead and neck, yet he still looks devastatingly attractive. He holds out his hand, wriggling his fingers. "Let me take a picture of you first."

"Okay." Hux hands over his phone and makes his way to the wall. He's in the middle of removing his cap—his fair skin and the Hawaiian sun definitely don't mix—when he hears someone offer, "I can take a picture of both of you."

"Thanks! That would be great," Hux hears Kylo say. Hux shakes his hair, trying to arrange it into something more acceptable, then lifts his head.

"No shit," the stranger says, removing his sunglasses as Hux's mouth drops. "Hugs?"

Hux squints into the sun. He registers the man's curly brown hair, strong nose, and easy-going smile. It's been over a decade since he's last seen Poe, and although he's much tanner and sporting new crinkles around his eyes, it's like going back in a time-machine. 

"Wow. Poe Dameron. As I live and breathe," he says as he steps forward and shakes Poe's hand. 

"Hugs?" Kylo asks with a bemused expression.

Hux gives Kylo a pained look as Poe laughs. "I was hoping you'd forgotten."

"Never." He turns to Kylo. "I'm Poe Dameron; I went to Columbia with Armie. We called him 'Hugs' because of his soft and cuddly personality."

_ "You _ were the only one who called me that," Hux corrects. "Poe prides himself on his wit. Clearly, he's either delusional or severely lacking talent in all other areas." He steps aside and introduces Kylo. "I can't believe it," Hux says, after Poe and Kylo shake hands. "What are the odds?"

"Not as great as you think," Poe replies, "seeing as I'm here three-hundred sixty-five days a year." Hux takes in Poe's clothing for the first time, and notices that Poe is dressed in a bright orange T-shirt, light beige shorts, and fucking  _ sandals _ that should look more heinous than they do. "How long are you guys here for?"

"Twelve days. We're spending today and tomorrow in Oahu, then we're off for a bit of island-hopping before returning," Hux answers.

"So you'll be back in Oahu for New Year's Eve?" When Hux and Kylo nod, Poe continues: "I'm having a small get-together at my place. You guys should come."

Hux glances over to Kylo, who looks thrilled at the invitation. "Yeah, that'd be great. I'd love to catch up at a time when I'm not about to keel over."

"Awesome." Poe holds up Hux's phone as if asking for permission, and when Hux nods, he enters his information under Hux's contacts. "Although I would've had to live under a rock not to hear about everything you've been doing lately. Loved your trilogy and the movies."

Hux feels his cheeks heat, and he's glad he can pass it off as a side effect from the sun. Poe's had quite the success in Hollywood as well—even more than Hux—but Hux knows little about his stories and their adaptations aside from the reviews. 

"Same," he says. He'll have to brush up on Poe's literary legacy before the party.

"All right, let's get this done." Poe waves Kylo and Hux closer together. "Kylo, stand a little to your left; Hux, stop looking like you're glaring daggers, or I'm coming over. Okay, darlings, now smile… "

Hux has never enjoyed public displays of affection, and he feels even more self-conscious when it's brought to people's attention in such a crass and flippant manner. But when Kylo bends over and whispers "I love you," then pulls Hux into his arms despite Poe's instructions to the contrary, Hux finds that the smile that breaks across his face is genuine and easy. The picture of the two of them is the best one yet, and Hux quickly downloads it as his screensaver.

*

The sunsets in Haleakala are absolutely sublime, so heavenly they rattle Hux's atheism. He and Kylo swim with turtles in Wainiha, share a joyous kiss under  Hanakapi'ai Falls, and get lost under Mauna Loa's infinite sky as volcanoes churn in the background. When they finally return to Honolulu, it's hard for Hux to reconcile the thought that he'll be thrust back in the brutal Manhattan winter in just a couple of days.

He tries to distance himself from the thought and takes a sip of his drink—some colorful, alcoholic fruity thing—and watches the moon rise above the waters of Maunalua Bay as the city lights twinkle in the distance. He leans to his right, his shoulder brushing against Kylo's.

"Can't beat that view."

Hux looks up from where he's leaning over the balcony. "Poe," he says with a sigh. 

"Hey." Poe's eyes, already a bit glassy from the booze and god knows what else, sparkle appreciatively as he smiles at Kylo. "Thanks for coming to my little shindig."

"This is little?" Kylo asks as Hux lets out a snort. Poe's home easily costs four—possibly five—million, and there's a waitstaff, plenty of party favors (legal and otherwise), and a band.

"Poe is the Michael Bay of writers. Everything is bigger, better, splashier. The Empire State Building is small if King Kong can scale it." Hux has a few additional choice adjectives, but he decides to keep them to himself.

Poe gives a knowing shrug. "I like fast cars and big explosions and sizzling passion and things that jump off the page. There's nothing wrong with that."

"You used to dream of writing a coming-of-age story. Something small, yet universal. Something to shake our world." It wasn't too long ago that Poe was Hux's TA back at Columbia. They never shared a bed— Hux was too prickly for Poe, even back then—but they did share a passion for good literature and a disdain for sellouts, or so Hux had thought.

"I still do. It doesn't mean I can't write other things. I'm glad I traded in my years of Ramen for this," Poe says, gesturing to the home's art-lined walls and the wall of glass with its sweeping views.

"It is beautiful," Kylo agrees. 

Poe grins with a smile that shows too much teeth for Hux's liking. "Wow. Handsome  _ and _ with good taste," Poe says as Kylo blushes attractively.

Hux's shoulders stiffen, the shine of their vacation rapidly fading. 

"Bully for you." Hux tips his head back and drains his drink, grimacing at the overly sweet taste.

Poe lets out a long sigh. "It's not like I'm hurting anyone, Armie. And if it gives them joy, who's to say it's wrong? After all, I set out to write stories that give people an escape, and my bank account certainly supports that fact. But I'm satisfied, too. And in the end, isn't that what it's all about?" He waves over one of the servers to replenish Hux's drink. "Anyway, enough shop talk. My goal is to get sufficiently tipsy so we can forgo shit like this and ring in the new year." 

Hux takes his glass and tilts it in Poe's direction. "Here's hoping that everything in the upcoming year will be… satisfactory."

Poe laughs, but it's quiet and forced. "Same old Hugs," he says under his breath before turning to Kylo. "Enjoy yourselves; I'm going to check on the other guests." 

"He's not wrong, you know," Kylo says quietly once Poe has left. 

Hux hand freezes, his glass inches from his lips. "What?"

Kylo doesn't back down. "There's nothing wrong with writing stuff that appeals to the masses. After all, what is the value of art if it doesn't resonate with the human condition?"

Hux doesn't bother to tamp down his growing anger. "Would you rather I was like Poe? Would you prefer if I were the next Terry Pratchett? Churn out one book after another so you can live in a 10,000-square foot palace instead of a tiny Manhattan apartment?" he asks, uncaring about the growing stares around them. 

Kylo flinches. "What I want is for my boyfriend to stop putting so much pressure on himself and his work. You don't need some esoteric bullshit that only appeals to five-percent of the population to give it value. What it needs is to have importance here," he says, his voice rising as he jabs a finger at Hux's chest. 

"Sure," Hux sneers. "I'll bet you'd be thrilled if I wrote another  _ Starkiller." _

Kylo moves back. "I'm not doing this here," he says, throwing his hands up. "And for your information, Terry Pratchett was a fucking _ king." _

"Where are you going?" Hux hisses between his teeth.

"Saving us from further embarrassment," Kylo says ominously.

Hux swears, not caring that they're attracting attention. "Don't turn your back on me. Kylo!" he shouts as Kylo turns around and does just that.

Something drops to the pit of Hux's stomach. He places his drink on the nearest table and follows Kylo down the staircase and onto the grounds. His body lurches as he misses the last step, but then he hauls himself up, scurrying after Kylo and almost managing to keep pace with Kylo's longer legs.

They make their way to the pool area which, thankfully, is surprisingly empty of any guests. Kylo turns and rolls his eyes when he spies Hux, then hurries to the poolhouse and enters.

When Hux pushes the door to follow him, he discovers it won't budge.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he screams.

"Go away," Kylo says, his voice weary. "Before we say something we can't come back from."

The thought stops Hux cold. Everyone he's ever cared about has walked out of his life: his mother, his father, and now, Kylo. "Are you threatening me?" he asks, voice low and almost steady. Silence greets him from behind the door. Anger churns in his gut, and he feels the muscle in his jaw tick along with every passing second. "So that's it? You're giving me the silent treatment?"

"I can't talk to you when you're irrational," Kylo finally spits out from behind the door.

"When  _ I'm _ irrational. When I'm  _ irrational," _ Hux repeats. The memory of his mother running away in a fit of tears and anger and locking herself behind the door worms its way into his consciousness. He won't break down the door or take it off its hinges like his father had, but Hux will make sure Kylo listens to him another way.

His hands shake as he reaches for his phone and pulls up the app; he can barely see straight, let alone type, he's so enraged.

_ Kylo's filled with self-loathing and remorse. He can't believe what he's done, that he was so willing to turn his back on, to risk losing, everything meaningful. He's ready to beg, to _

He's still in the middle of the sentence when the door flies open.

"I'm sorry," Kylo says, his face reeking of panic and desperation. He reaches for Hux, his hands shaking as if he needs to touch but isn't sure he's allowed to.

"I've given you  _ everything,"  _ Hux says, the irony making him laugh bitterly. "And now you won't even give me the courtesy of speaking?"

Kylo's entire body folds as he sinks down onto his knees.

"Please," he moans. He grips the back of Hux's legs and presses up against him, mouthing Hux's crotch. "Don't leave me," Kylo begs, his hands scrabbling at Hux's zipper.

"You think it's so easy," Hux spits. "Think you can bat your eyes and make everything go away." He can't help the hiss that escapes as Kylo finally wrangles open Hux's jeans. Kylo tugs them down, the noises he makes sloppy and needy with a hysterical edge. His eyes flare as he frees Hux's dick from his boxers. "Bet you're willing to put your mouth on anyone. I saw the way you were looking at Poe."

"Don't want him," Kylo moans, rubbing his face along Hux's cock. "Just want you. Please, please,  _ please…" _ He licks up and down Hux's shaft, suckles the head of Hux's cock, the sounds of his attempts choked and wet.

Hux feels the anger recede, just barely, but his overstrung emotions and burgeoning arousal leaves him cruel. 

"You want this?" he asks as he rolls his hips. Kylo gags a bit; despite his lush mouth, he never could take it down very well. "Is this what it takes to keep you satisfied? On your hands and knees, getting your mouth fucked like a little whore?"

Kylo moans around Hux's dick, his answer garbled by Hux's next thrust. His dark locks are plastered against his face, his lips already swollen and reddened. When he lifts his eyes to meet Hux's steely gaze, Hux sees that they're large and wet.

Something twists inside Hux, along with a feeling that it's sick and selfish and  _ wrong, wrong, wrong. _ The tears aren't gathering at the corners of Kylo's eyes because Hux is fucking his throat deeply. They're there because Kylo is  _ miserable. _

Hux grips the sides of Kylo's jaw and stills his hips. His dick wilts, which sends Kylo into a panic.

"No," Kylo cries as he starts to tongue it frantically. "I'll be good, I'll make it good, just let me—"

Hux cups Kylo's chin and pulls back gently, shame flooding through him as Kylo tries to follow. 

"Fuck," Hux croaks out as he falls onto the floor next to Kylo. His dick hangs out from his boxers, damp and limp. Kylo burrows his head in the crook of Hux's neck, and all Hux can think about as he gathers Kylo in his arms is how different everything is from the first time Hux ended on the ground, on the fateful day when Kylo dropped into his life. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I fucked us up, I'm sorry." 

As the clock strikes midnight and the guests outside welcome the new year with their drunken cheers, Hux has no idea if the salty tears that track down his face are his or Kylo's.


	5. Denouement

_Love is a strange thing. Some hold it as the pinnacle of life, the culmination of self-awareness, reciprocity, and understanding. "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Even Hallmark cards and coffee mugs parrot Tennyson's version of love's moral high ground._

_Others hold a more cynical view. "We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone." Welles may have been pessimistic, but it doesn't lessen his truth._

_I know I have the capacity to love. I love the smell of parchment and old leather, the comfort it provides me when I crave solace. I love how the sun rises, and the way it colors perception and experience and emotion. I love sex—the raw, primal, dirty beauty of it. And, surprisingly, I love the idea of being in love._

_But love hurts. Its highs can save a man, make him feel as if he could touch the heavens, but its lows are the very definition of devastation._

_Love is, as I've learned, both Welles'_ and _Tennyson's versions. I am better for the experience, but worse in knowing how much I've lost. Love is not illusory, it is transformative, and for anyone who's once held it in their grasp, its disappearance, whether sudden or slow, leaves an irreparable stain._

_My heart—my soul— can attest to that._

(Untitled WIP, A. Hux, Ch. 29)

* * *

When the sun hits its warmth is bright and unforgiving. It takes Hux a moment to realize why that is as he cracks open a bleary eye.

"Shit," he says as he sucks in a breath. It wasn't some fevered dream. His heart clenches when he sees Kylo lying on his side, body curled in on itself and hands clenched even in sleep. When Hux shifts, Kylo frowns and moves alongside Hux, as if pulled by an invisible thread.

Hux knows what he asked for, what he wrote. But seeing Kylo like this, with his boundless joy and innocence reduced to a vapid shell, has the bile rising in Hux's throat.

He clambers out of bed, his breaths quickening as Kylo lets out a needy sound, and grapples for his phone, fingers shaking.

6:08 AM. It's what, eleven, twelve, in New York? It's hardly early, under normal circumstances, but it's New Years day, which by all rights sets back time another five hours. Hux supposes random, inconvenient calls are part of a psychiatrist's burden, and he's already thinking of apologies and bargains to make up for the intrusion, but before he can formulate something coherent, the ringing cuts off his spiraling thoughts.

"Hello." Dr. Sloane doesn't sound sleepy or irked. In fact, there are the sounds of pans clanging in the background, along with the shrieking and giggling of some decidedly little children.

"I… It's Armitage Hux." Hux swallows. "I'm sorry to bother you."

"My phone is always open, Armitage," Dr. Sloane says, sounding like she actually means it. "If I remember correctly, you're supposed to be vacationing somewhere warm and beautiful."

"We're back in Oahu," Hux says, his voice cracking.

Dr. Sloane waits. When Hux doesn't say anything further, she prods him gently. "I'm all ears. Whenever you're ready."

"I fucked up. God, I fucked everything up, and you're going to think I'm crazy but I promise I'm not."

To Hux's horror, his voice breaks and his vision starts wavering. He makes it to the bathroom and crumples onto the floor where he draws his chest up to his knees. The tile is cold and the bathmat is squished under his ass, and he half-laughs, half-sobs at the notion that he's never had a comfortable seat while talking to Dr. Sloane, not once.

"Hux, have you thought about, or do you have any intention of, harming yourself?"

"What? No." Hux wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm too much of a self-serving asshole to do something like that."

"Then we'll focus on what caused you to pick up that phone to call me right now."

Hux whimpers. "I don't know where to start."

"This is a no-judgment zone, Hux, I promise." Hux can hear her slow and steady breaths on the other line. "It's just after six in Hawaii. Did you just wake up, or have you yet to sleep?"

"I just woke up. And then I wished I hadn't because I feel like shit." Hux runs his hand through his hair. "There's no alcohol involved, or drugs, it's just… " Fuck, Hux can't tell her how Kylo came into his life, at least not like this, not over the phone. He doesn't care how non-judgmental Sloane thinks she is, there's no way she's going to accept Kylo's Galatea origins with a straight face. "It's Kylo. And my inability to have anything meaningful in my life without fucking things up." Something hot trickles down his cheek, and Hux sniffles. "I'm sorry, this is ridiculous. I'm calling you because I can't have a normal, adult relationship."

"You called me because something upset you. You've had ups and down in your prior relationships. Something is acting as the catalyst, but whether it's because you saw a picture, or heard a song, or had a fight, the distress you feel and your need to reach out is not ridiculous."

"I'm no better than my father," Hux blurts out. "I… " The tears are spilling fast now, causing him to choke on some of his words. "Kylo was perfect. And I tainted everything. And the more I tried, I made it worse." He lets out a keening sound. "I'm toxic."

There's the sound of a hand muffling the receiver, followed by the snick of a door. It's quiet on the other end now, which makes Hux that much more aware of his harried breathing. "Where is Kylo now?"

"In bed. Still sleeping." At least, Hux hopes that's the case.

"Okay. tell me what happened."

"We were at a party last night. A colleague's home, someone I knew when we were both struggling writers. He hit success early on and I soon followed. In fact, both our books were fast-tracked for movie adaptations at around the same time. But unlike me, he seemed to find the goose that laid the golden egg while I floundered. I was jealous of his success, of his home, of his satisfaction with… being able to settle. So I made some shitty comments about his artistic integrity."

"Was Kylo with you while all this was happening?"

"He was," Hux says unhappily. He looks up at the ceiling, forcing the shameful words out of his mouth. "Kylo was trying to make me see the bigger picture. But then I accused him of wanting me to be a hack writer so he could reap the benefits. He was furious; he told me so, and he walked away from me."

"But Kylo is there with you now." Dr. Sloane hesitates. "What happened next, Armitage?"

"I made a scene. But that wasn't the worst," Hux admits, split open and broken. "When we got outside, I lashed out. I made him cry."

"Did you lash out verbally or physically?"

Hux hangs his head. "I'm a writer. Believe me, I can make it hurt where it counts." When he laughs, the sound is hollow and tinny.

"So what happened this morning?"

"I think we're broken," Hux croaks. "Worse than that… Kylo's perfect. I know what you're going to say, that no one's perfect, but believe me, when I first met him, he was about as close to perfect as anyone could be. And I broke him."

"Okay." Dr. Sloane takes a deep breath, one that's difficult for Hux to read. "When are you flying back?"

"Tomorrow."

"Okay." There's another pause. "This isn't something that we can solve in a single phone call. Right now, it's important for both you and Kylo to feel like you're in a safe and neutral place. If you feel angry or upset, I want you to take a time out. Don't make false promises about the relationship; it's not fair to either one of you. We'll focus on some techniques you can use when responding to stressful situations in your sessions when you get back."

"I wish I could turn back time. Just erase everything that's happened," Hux says miserably.

"Hux… When we first met, Millicent was your closest friend. You care about Kylo, enough to reach out to me. I can't speak for Kylo, never having met him before, but I see the difference he's made in you. You may think you're rigid and inflexible, but even though we may need to work on improving your adaptive skills, you are not your father. Your life experiences, and the people who've influenced you along the way, are different. In fact, you are not the same man who walked into my office seven months ago and barely tolerated me just so he could make a point with his agent. I'm going to say it again: you are not your father."

Several minutes pass. "Hux?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Just… processing." Hux pastes on a watery smile and hopes his tone doesn't come across as overly false. "Thanks for listening to me. And I'm sorry to intrude on your holiday."

"I'm glad you trusted me enough to call me, Hux. Call the office tomorrow if you wish to move your appointment up. I'll make sure to squeeze you in."

"Thank you." Hux remains on the floor long after Dr. Sloane has said her goodbye. He tilts back his head, letting it thunk against the wall.

The problem is that Dr. Sloane is right. People are shaped by their life experiences, each one leaving an indelible mark. Hux has seen it firsthand, in how Kylo's arc has played out, shifting constantly from its original path with every new scene and every rewrite.

And through it all, Kylo has never had a choice, not really. Hux might not be able to bring Kylo back to a point before he'd messed everything up, but he _can_ do something about it going forward.

Hux stands and rinses his face, grimacing when he sees his reflection. As he re-enters the bedroom, he's surprised to find Kylo awake, propped up on an elbow as he stares at Hux, his mouth downturned, expression wary and uncertain.

"Hey." Kylo bites his lower lip. Hux watches the flesh beneath his teeth. Memorizes the way it reddens. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… "

Hux watches as Kylo's chin wobbles, and he's so tempted to go back and edit out everything he's sullied the doc _—Kylo—_ with last night, but it doesn't matter, because it doesn't change what he put Kylo through, not that any of this will have meaning soon, anyway. He wants to fall on his knees and beg for Kylo's forgiveness. He's sure he can wheedle something from Kylo with a heartfelt apology, but at this point it's just a selfish move, and the masochistic side of Hux thinks he deserves to remember the pain.

The ache blooms in Hux's chest, raw and unrelenting.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Hux sits. The mattress dips from his weight, and Kylo's hand inches closer. "I've been a fuck up for most of my life, at least when it comes to my relationships. I'd blamed it on my father, made excuses for behaving the way I did when fame and success came at me so hard and fast, but there's a point in life where there's no excusing shitty behaviors anymore. I got away with it for the longest time because I had no reason to change. But you" —Hux tries to laugh but it comes out choked— "You've made me realize it wasn't right. That I needed _—wanted—_ to be someone better. I'm just sorry I had to put you through my fucked up coping skills to get there."

Kylo shifts, his brows drawing down in confusion. "I don't understand… Hux, I shouldn't have pushed, especially when I saw how upset you were after you argued with Poe. If it were the other way around—"

"If it were the other way around, you wouldn't have assumed the worst because you would've believed I had your best interests at heart. And that doesn't excuse all the other times where I let my insecurities dictate my reactions. Or what you deserve."

"Hux—" 

Kylo looks lost, as if an apologetic, thoughtful Hux were something foreign, and it makes something break in Hux. He wishes he could make Kylo understand, but then he realizes that's been his problem all along, that he's always tried to force Kylo to fit into his narrative.

Hux slowly draws himself fully onto the bed and brackets Kylo's thick, glorious body with his legs. 

"You have been amazing from the day you tumbled into my life. So much better than I deserved." He kisses Kylo's forehead, then trails his lips across the planes of Kylo's incredible face. He memorizes the slant of his nose and the slope of his cheeks, studies the full and wide expanse of his lips. When Hux pulls back, he traces the outline of Kylo's eyes—heavy-lidded and long-lashed, whiskey-colored orbs framed against pale skin and a smattering of moles. 

"I could stare at you forever." Hux breathes. "But it's not just because you're gorgeous, even though you've got the most incredible hair and eyes and mouth and body I've ever seen. It's because we can argue about whether Baudelaire is better than Balzac. It's because aside from me, you're the only one who Millicent lets close. It's because you know five different ways to make pancakes, and they all taste better than anything I've ever eaten.”

"Six," Kylo corrects. The wariness in his eyes fades slightly.

"And you're strong—fuck, like _so strong._ And I don't just mean these," Hux adds, running his palms along Kylo's shoulders, his thumbs digging into the meat of Kylo's biceps. "Don't get me wrong, I love how you can hold me up and fuck me against a wall. But I also love that you're strong enough to crave your own life. To have a job. To want your independence, apart from me."

Kylo settles his hands on Hux's hips. They're ridiculously big, and his fingers fit along the curve of Hux's ass and sides perfectly, and Hux is going to miss it _so fucking much._ "I never got the impression that you liked that. My desire to make it on my own," Kylo says.

Hux hangs his head. "It's because I'm an insecure ass," he admits. He averts his gaze and traces circles on Kylo's skin so he can keep up with his confession. "I only wish I were that brave. That I had an ounce of your confidence."

Kylo doesn't say anything but his fingers dig into the sides of Hux's hips as he blinks and a shudder runs through the length of his body. Hux lowers his head and breathes in the scent of Kylo's skin and nuzzles his chest. He marvels at how smooth it is against his cheek; how different it feels compared to the thick, wiry thatch of hair at the base of Kylo's cock.

"I love how sensitive you are," Hux breathes. His tongue darts out, the tip of it flicking over the crest of Kylo's nipple which hardens immediately under his tongue. He wraps his lips around the nub, sucking gently as Kylo lets out a low moan. "And not just like this," he adds, pulling off reluctantly. "You're thoughtful and sweet. You're considerate and generous. You're—"

"Hey." Kylo sits up straight, his eyes worried as Hux falters. "What's gotten into you this morning?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, so sorry," Hux says, pushing himself forward so their foreheads touch. "You're so good and I don't deserve you, you don't deserve this, and I wish I were better, but I've told you that before, and it doesn't excuse anything I've done. Just... know you deserve the best things in life, Kylo. You deserve so much better."

"You're thinking too much," Kylo says, and Hux has to choke back his bitter laugh because he is but it's too late, and it hurts to know that things could've been much different if Hux took the time to think through things properly before. He wonders if he had paid heed to Finn's advice a little more closely, or Phasma's prescient warning, or the niggling in his gut, or taken his sessions with Sloane more seriously, that things could be different. If instead of taking out his anger, or trying to circumvent his problems, with words, he could have worked out their issues with action.

Hux makes a wounded sound; Kylo wraps his hand around the nape of Hux's neck and draws him in, and like the tide to the pull of the moon, Hux follows. 

Kylo's kisses are nothing like Hux's. Hux kisses with intent: a thrust of his tongue to dominate; a tug with his teeth to reprimand; a harsh and bruising movement of his lips to possess; or a gentle brush of his mouth to engender trust. Kylo kisses in the moment. He tilts forward as Hux leans back, softens his mouth when Hux turns demanding, grows possessive and dominant when Hux turns needy, but it's always real, brutally real and gloriously honest. 

Hux falls into the moment and tells himself not to _think._ He wants to remember the way the huffs of breath curl against his skin when Kylo lets out these soft moans, how beautifully Kylo arches his back when the lines of their cocks brush, but he's afraid of the memories, of his inability to safeguard his fragile heart. 

Hux slides against Kylo's body, the way paved with a faint sheen of sweat as his balls rub along the thick shaft of Kylo's prick. The tip of Kylo's cock slips inside the cleft of his ass, and Kylo groans when Hux doesn't shy away. 

"Do you want to fuck me? Or have me fuck you?" Hux asks, his breath ruffling the hairs along Kylo's neck.

Kylo's pupils dilate. Hux doesn't bottom often, and when he does, he usually does so as a show of power.

"Yeah, god… want this," Kylo says as he traces Hux's hole. He scrambles over to the nightstand, grabs the bottle of lube, and slicks his fingers as he starts to work. It's still early, and the lube is cold, and Hux's ass clenches at the intrusion. But Kylo soothes Hux with pretty words and soft kisses as he works a finger around his rim. His fingers are strong and thick, and despite the frisson of sadness and frustration that's lingering in Hux's veins, he can't help the gasp that escapes him when Kylo presses the pad of his index finger against the ring of muscle and it pushes through.

Hux grimaces and tries to slow his breaths.

"I've got you, baby," Kylo murmurs. It's been so long since Hux has done this but he wants it. Needs it.

Hux relaxes minutely as Kylo waits, before nodding. "Okay." Hux breathes. "A bit more… "

"Want to turn over?" Kylo asks, nibbling on Hux's neck. "I can get you ready better that way."

It would be easier, of course, but Hux doesn't want easy. He wants this time to be face-to-face, to feel the heat of Kylo's breath against his skin, their sweat mingling with the scent of their musk, the feel of Kylo's massive cock splitting him, marking him for days. 

"Wanna see you," Hux whispers. He takes a deep breath and sinks deeper onto Kylo's finger. "Come on, darling, fill me up."

It takes a while, but Kylo gradually works Hux open, the burn just this side of pleasurable. By the time Kylo's worked three fingers in, he's pumping their thick lengths in and out, and Hux feels a growing desperation.

"Want you," Hux begs. His voice cracks, and to his horror, it sounds vulnerable and needy.

Surprise cuts through the lust-filled fog in Kylo's eyes. He removes his fingers and Hux moans at emptiness that follows. He's still hovering over Kylo but he feels unmoored, and only regains his footing when Kylo wraps his hands around the back of Hux's thighs, supporting him. 

"What's wrong?" Kylo asks when Hux doesn't move. "Is this too much? If you don't feel comfortable, you can fuck me instead."

"No, just… " Hux has always bottomed from the top, has always controlled the pace and the depth without giving in and letting go. "Could you take me on my back?" He feels his cheeks flame.

Kylo's eyes are an inky black surrounded by a whiskey-colored rim. "Yeah. Yeah, I can definitely do that." He settles his hands on Hux's waist and shoulder and flips them both over with ease.

"Fuck," Hux huffs out with a laugh as he lands on the mattress. Kylo's ridiculously strong but he's surprisingly graceful, even when he's manhandling Hux's six-foot, two-inch frame. It makes Hux feel like the heroine in some bodice ripper, and he grows choked at the irony of how this romance with Kylo started, and how it's going to end.

Kylo positions his palms under Hux's ass and slides him against the sheets, pulling him up. Hux draws his knees to his chest and uses his fingers to prise apart his ass cheeks as Kylo lets out a low growl.

"Fuck," Kylo says as he sucks in a breath. He grabs the base of his cock. "Fuck, you're beautiful like this," he adds, staring. Kylo grabs at the bottle of lube and slicks his cock, then angles his dick and presses in.

Hux mewls at the intrusion because even though Kylo prepped him, Kylo's cock is thick and veined and absolutely huge. Tears prick the corners of Hux's eyes as Kylo flushes and his amber eyes widen with guilt.

"Please," Hux gasps, shifting as the searing burn dulls and gives way to an almost unbearable pressure. "Move."

Kylo hesitates, but when Hux bears down and causes Kylo's cock to sink further, he gives in. The discomfort is temporary, thankfully, and Hux soon finds himself angling upwards, his legs wrapping around Kylo's waist as he urges him deeper. Kylo seems to like it; he gazes at Hux through half-lidded eyes, his smile turning wicked and playful.

"You like that," he says, almost hesitantly as if he's unsure how much he can say, how much he can push.

"Fuck, yes. Please," Hux urges, wrapping his legs tighter, pushing down with his heels. 

Kylo obliges, his hips pumping back and forth, circling as he bottoms out. He moves faster as Hux shivers and lets out a throaty moan, which Kylo subsequently swallows with his mouth. The kiss is sloppy and bruising as Kylo works his hips, his movements primal and raw.

Hux rocks up to meet him. He doesn't want this to end but his emotions are spilling over. He's never had sex with Kylo like this, and he sees stars when Kylo shifts, the new position causing his cock to slide along Hux's prostate, over and over. 

"You're amazing. Fucking incredible," Kylo says as his movements grow erratic.

Hux graces him with a smile. Crinkles his eyes, even though his heart is breaking.

"Love you," he says. He tries to show it in the softness in his face, in the tenderness of his fingers as they caress Kylo's skin and the lengths of his hair. Tries to remember the slant of Kylo's jaw, its firmness as he leans into Hux's touch.

For a moment, Hux thinks Kylo might be able to read Hux's thoughts because an unreadable look passes over his face. Then he's fucking into Hux, his hips rabbiting, pounding him raw.

"Gonna come," Kylo grits out. 

Hux's cock bounces against his belly with every thrust. He reaches out to grab it but Kylo knocks his hand away.

"Come with me. Just from me," he says, and the commanding tone must do something for Hux because it only takes a couple more thrusts, driving and demanding, before Hux feels his orgasm rushing through him. The blinding heat wraps around his lower back and shoots into his groin, his spunk pulsating out through his dick as his ass muscles clench, drawing Kylo's release as well. Ropes of jizz hit Hux's chest as Kylo trembles above him.

Kylo rolls his hips lazily as Hux's dick gives one last, valiant twitch. When he starts to soften he slowly withdraws, his entire body going loose as he slides lazy-limbed next to Hux. Hux closes his eyes, his brain having short-circuited, his limbs soft and stupid.

"Was that okay?" Kylo asks as he traces a finger in the cooling come on Hux's chest. 

Hux cracks open an eye. 

"It was better than okay. It was perfect." He tilts Kylo's chin and meets his nervous gaze head on. "You're perfect. In fact, if I had to dream up someone, I'd dream up someone exactly like you."

The smile Kylo gives him is blinding. "So maybe… maybe we could do it again?"

"Definitely," Hux croaks, the lie catching in his throat. He takes a long, deep breath as he tries to calm his racing heart. "Though not right away. Going to take a bit longer to recover."

Kylo holds Hux's hand and kisses his forehead. Hux doesn't even complain about the stickiness where they're joined. "Going to shower. Want to come?"

Hux nods. "In a minute," he says, closing his eyes. "Need to catch my breath."

Kylo brushes his lips against the corner of Hux's mouth. "'Kay. Don't be too long."

"I won't." The mattress lifts. Hux hears Kylo pad around the room, his footsteps fading as he makes his way toward the bathroom. "Kylo?" Hux says, opening his eyes.

Kylo halts. He looks beautiful even like this, hair mussed and rumpled. There's so much that Hux wants to tell him, but nothing he can say. 

"Happy New Year," Hux says. _To new beginnings._

Kylo gives him a lopsided smile. "Happy New Year." He enters the bathroom. The strains of 'Auld Lang Syne' can be heard against the running water. The lyrics are wrong but Kylo's surprisingly on key, his voice booming and deep.

Hux slides out of bed as Kylo sings something about 'kindness and cops'. He flips open the cover to his laptop, his body on edge as he powers on and pulls up the doc:

_My Fake Boyfriend_

The cursor blinks, and shame sours Hux's post-orgasm lassitude. The title itself, a reflection of his flippant disregard, digs the knife in a little deeper. He hits "rename" and types _Love Lessons_ in its place.

Hux reads over his words. Most are descriptions of Kylo's physical features and skillsets or, as the doc progresses, his deficiencies and deference to Hux. There's nothing about the way Kylo's eyes turn different shades of brown or gold, or even the rare pale green, depending on the lighting or his mood. There's no mention of how brutally open Kylo is with his emotions, how raw and honest he is in his love or anger, even though he can turn up the charm around people like Pryde or Snoke. Hux never described how Kylo managed to fill in every space of Hux's life, from the small dip that's developed in the mattress, to the smell of his lemony shampoo on the pillowcases, to the variety of organic fruits and vegetables that have somehow taken residence in Hux's fridge. And there's absolutely no mention of the incomparable happiness Hux feels when he wakes up snuggled in Kylo's arms.

Hux realizes that although he's been writing Kylo's development, Kylo has been directing his story, too—at least, when Hux lets him. For a second he thinks that what they have may be salvageable, but he remembers Sloane's words, thinks about what would have happened if Pygmalion had continued chipping away at Galatea, leaving behind something broken and irreparably flawed where there had once been beauty. The idea that he's the barrier to Kylo's happiness cuts through Hux's indecision, sharp and bitter.

"Are you coming?" Kylo calls from the bathroom.

"Be there soon," Hux says, his voice cracking. The hateful words from last night mock him _,_ their letters blurring against the page. Hux's finger hovers over the keyboard, all the way to the right and second row down. He can still make out Kylo singing in the background.

It's the right thing to do. 

"I love you, Kylo," Hux whispers. He presses his fingers against the outline of his lips, imaging Kylo's mouth on his for the very last time, then goes through the doc methodically, takes out every single reference or connection to Hux, and hits _Delete._

He places the doc in the trash. By the time Hux stumbles to the bathroom, the water is still running, but Kylo is gone and Hux's finger is bare.

*

Hux flies back to JFK on Tuesday. He puts in his airpods, tries to block out the screaming kids in the back row and the stewardess who lingers too long with a solicitous smile on her face. More than anything, he tries to ignore the empty seat beside him for the entire eleven hour flight.

When he gets home, the apartment is empty. Kylo's clothes are nowhere to be found, and there's nothing but the smell of Downy on his sheets. The refrigerator is filled with expired takeout and Millicent's bowl is filled with store-bought kibble.

Hux crawls into the bed and pulls up the sheets and doesn't get out for a week.

  
  



	6. Epilogue

_Some people say that love is a give and take, but the truth is that love isn't a commodity to be traded. Acts of love aren't things to check off on a list, or expressions that warrant a self-congratulatory pat on the back. It's doing the right thing because you care so much about your partner you can't imagine having it any other way._

_If it seems like I'm proselytizing, allow me this indulgence. Nothing in this is congratulatory. When it comes to love, I've made enough mistakes that I could do penance a thousand times over and never get the columns to even. All I can do is live and learn, and hope I will be worthy of someone's love one day._

(Truly, Deeply, A. Hux, Ch. 33)

* * *

The first person Hux calls when he gets home is Phasma. He breaks down crying and she holds him in her arms, not even complaining when he gets snot and tears all over her cashmere sweater.

"He's gone. I deleted us," Hux sobs.

Phasma doesn't say much, doesn't press Hux over his decision even though she seems confused as to why Hux is so broken up over a character in one of his stories. She gives him a week, then drags him out of bed and from his apartment.

The blast of January wind is bitter and biting.

*

Several weeks later, Hux finds himself near Washington Square Park. The students are on winter break and the stores are relatively empty, so when the bell rings over the doorway to Legends Books, his presence is noticed immediately.

Thanisson stares, his mouth dropping open.

"Mr. Hux! Wow, I'm such a fan!" he gushes.

Hux swallows, the dull ache in his chest blooming. "I'm looking for… do you have another worker here? Kylo?"

Thanisson frowns. "Kyle? We don't have anyone by the name of Kyle. What does he look like? Maybe—"

The door slams as Hux pushes his way through, the bell tinkling angrily behind him.

*

Hux eventually sees Dr. Sloane, even though it's a month late and after a slew of unanswered messages. 

"It's good to see you again, Armitage." The 'finally' is implied.

The outline of Hux's fingernails dig their way into his palms. "I'm sorry," he says. "I thought I was ready, but… there were so many things that happened around New Years, and I was trying to process everything, trying to stay afloat…" To his mortification, Hux feels the hot slide of his tears on his cheek, knows his skin must be turning blotchy.

"You're not alone, Armitage. But therapy is a two-way street. I can't help you if you're not committed to these sessions."

"I know. It's just, Kylo… he's gone." The tears won't stop falling. Dr. Sloane nudges a Kleenex cube from the corner of her desk towards him and Hux grabs at the tissues like a lifeline, pressing one to his face. He doesn't want to lie to Dr. Sloane, and God knows he needs her help, but therapy will be a farce if he has to talk around what really happened. "I don't know where to start," he confesses as his shoulders slump and he crumples into himself.

"Why don't you start at the beginning. How did you meet Kylo?"

Hux lets out a bitter laugh and looks up at the ceiling. Dr. Sloane has stressed that everything in their sessions is confidential and her office is a safe zone. He's about to put it to the test.

He crumples up the wad of Kleenex and throws it in the trash and goes for broke. "Funny thing, that. You were actually there when it happened."

*

Vegas is a unique animal, a strange mixture of nature and artifice, of city life and backwater values. The golds and reds of the surrounding canyons are offset by the pink and blue of the city's neon lights, which flash non-stop even in the morning and under the relentless desert sun. It's noisy, but without the gritty realism of New York. It's a bit disconcerting to Hux at first, unfamiliar and antithetical to everything he has ever known, but it's not necessarily a bad thing. It certainly helps to be away from his apartment, which still reeks of sadness and tainted memories.

He's reached a place in his sessions with Dr. Sloane at which he feels he's finally getting somewhere. It's not easy, of course—and she had warned him beforehand that it wouldn't be so—and there are times where he can't believe he's paying her an absurd rate to sit there just staring at his hands. Hux is glad that her first response wasn't to ply him with medications when he confessed, although he suspects the battery of questions that followed was to make sure he didn't have some kind of delusional or dissociative disorder. They keep up with their weekly telehealth visits now that he's away— for how long that will continue, he's unsure.

The whole trip to Vegas was spontaneous, at least for someone who's always relied on meticulous control. Hux needed to be somewhere different—to start fresh and work through his feelings on the page as well as through counseling. A cabin in New Hampshire would be too cliché, globetrotting much too Hemingway, but Vegas chafes at his sensibilities, and he ends up giving in to the artist stereotype (just a little) when he packs up his bags and Millie and migrates to Taos, New Mexico. In Taos, he discovers the beauty of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, rents a pueblo in an artists' colony, finds pleasure and religion with Jesus OG, and slowly regains his footing.

And then he begins to write.

*

The line is still long, and though it's thirty minutes past when Hux was scheduled to leave, he chooses to stay. The book tours are as much of a grind as he remembers, but this time, he's not taking any of it for granted. _Truly, Deeply_ has become a surprise hit—part YA coming of age and part NA about the consequences of choices. It's the furthest thing from the _Starkiller_ trilogy that Hux could imagine as well as the most personal. One critic wrote that the inexplicable popularity of Hux's stories was like capturing lightning in a bottle—not once, but twice. 

Hux would trade it all for the same kind of luck in his personal life.

He readies his pen and looks up at the next person in line. The man looks vaguely familiar and Hux frowns, wondering where he's seen him before.

"Hi, I'm such a huge fan," the man gushes. His fingers shake as he opens his copy to the dedication page. "If you could make it to Mitaka. M-I-T-A-K-A."

Hux scribbles a quick note and signs his name with a flourish as Mitaka chatters, a bundle of nerves.

"I have signed copies to all your books."

Hux closes the cover and glances over at Phasma, his eyebrow raised. She smirks, and normally Hux would be put out, but she's the best agent around, even though she hasn't quite forgiven him for his decision to choose Alliance Publishers over the better-known First Order. He thinks the eighteen-percent commission on sales has done wonders in soothing her ruffled feathers.

He's about to move onto the next person in line when he catches the tail end of Mitaka's question.

"Are you—? I thought I remember reading somewhere that you had a partner. Are you still together?"

The question takes Hux by surprise, and he blames the unguarded moment for answering.

"Unfortunately, no," he says with a sad smile.

"Oh." Mitaka looks down at his copy of _Truly, Deeply,_ and the expression on his face shifts to one of sympathy and understanding. "I'm sorry." He grabs his book off the table, his ears pinking as if he's said too much.

"Me too," Hux says softly as he watches Mitaka go.

*

Even though it's been a year since he left New Mexico, Hux finds himself missing that part of his life. He'll always be a city boy at heart, but he craves space and solitude, especially after spending over two hours playing polite in a filled-to-capacity bookstore. He grabs a lunch to go in Koreatown and heads towards the park, passing the chess players and the carousel and the people in suits. All he wants is a moment to decompress, a bench to sit on in the sun so he can gather his thoughts.

He doesn't expect there to be any empty ones, not on a warm spring day like today, but as he walks through the gardens, someone gets up. There's another person occupying the bench on the left side but they're quietly engrossed in a book. Although the man could pass for a behemoth, there's plenty of room if Hux sits on the right, even by New York City standards of personal space.

Hux drops his bag by his feet and digs out his lunch. As he straightens, he catches the jacket of the book his neighbor is reading and chuckles.

The man looks up and peers over the top of his sunglasses. Hux gasps when their eyes meet, the bag containing his lunch slipping from his hands and spilling to the ground. The contents splatter, some of it painting the hem of the stranger's pants and his shoes with its oily residue. Hux curses as he grabs several napkins and dabs at the man's clothes, apologizing profusely.

"Hey. You okay?" the stranger asks. He reaches down and scoops up Hux's carryout bag along with the napkins, now stained a bright orange-yellow, and hands the entire mess over to Hux. Most of his hair is hidden under a beanie, but Hux doesn't know how he could have missed the signs, like how the dark strands curl under the edges of his cap, or the pattern of moles below the curve of the man's cheek, or the size and strength of his hands, or the sterling silver ring bordered by a hexagon and sunburst design.

Hux's breaths are coming faster and faster yet he still feels as if he can't breathe.

"Hey, man, do you need me to get some help?" His amber eyes are wide, filled with concern.

"No, I'm good," Hux gasps, wiping his eyes. "Just lamenting the loss of my Bi Bam Bop." He can't help staring; it can't be, but there's _no one_ like Kylo. Hux wants to reach out and touch, to confirm that Kylo is alive and real. 

"Lightning in a bottle," Hux mutters, his heart in his throat. He turns towards the man and asks, "Kylo?"

The speed with which the man's eyebrows draw down causes Hux's stomach to drop. "What?" he asks.

"I mean… " Hux swallows, trying not to let his disappointment bleed through. He glances down at the book at the man's side and thinks quickly. "Kyle," he says, referencing the love interest of the story. "I'm curious as to what you think of him."

Something relaxes in the man's expression. "Ahh. I don't know anything about him yet. I just started." He opens up the book to where he's thumbed down the right top corner, just five pages in. "Is he a favorite of yours?"

"He's the best. But I might be a bit biased, given that I wrote him as the pretend boyfriend I never had."

"No shit! You're Armitage Hux?" The man flips the book over to look at Hux's photograph on the back cover, before his eyes fly back to Hux. "Wow," he says, giving Hux a once-over. "It's a nice photo, but you're even better looking in person." He gapes as his cheeks pink. "Forgive my loss of brain-to-mouth filter. I moved here a couple of years ago, but even though it's _New York,_ I still manage to get flustered whenever I meet a celebrity." He holds out his hand. "I'm Ben. Ben Solo."

"Hi, Ben." Hux feels unbalanced and nervous, but it's the good kind, as if he's standing on the precipice of something life-changing. "Seeing as I'm out of a meal and I've ruined your clothes, what do you say to lunch? My treat? I'll even pay for your dry cleaning."

Ben looks like he can't believe his good fortune. "That's... I mean, that's really nice of you, but you totally don't have to. I'm just a high school English teacher; I don't think I own a single piece of clothing that needs to be dry-cleaned, not like you're used to—"

"Believe me, you're giving me too much credit if you think being a semi-famous writer makes me any different," Hux says. "I'm just a regular person, flaws and all."

Ben seems to make up his mind. "Yeah, I'd love to," he says, ducking his head as a shy smile graces his lips. "But on one condition."

Hux almost agrees. He's determined to do whatever he can to make this relationship work, but he doesn't want to start off by making empty promises he can't keep. 

"What's that?" he asks, his breath bated.

Ben holds up the book, his eyes twinkling. "You won't tell me how this story ends."

Hux nods. There will be no more fits of control, second-guesses or manipulation. It's him and Ben, and although Hux hopes this particular love story will have a happy ending, he's going to let it write its natural conclusion.

Emboldened by Ben's grin, Hux takes his hand. It's new, but there's something about Ben's touch that's achingly familiar, and Hux's heart quickens as their fingers slot together.

He lets out a long breath. "I wouldn't dream of it," Hux says. He returns Ben's smile, his heart in every word.

_**~fin~** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who's read, kudosed, commented on the work; and/or reblogged Ginger's gorgeous art. It means so much to us! Thanks also to the mods of the bang, who help keep the Kylux flames burning.
> 
> Roseofgalaxies was looped into this project when she volunteered her beta-wisdom for [@FandomTrumpsHate2020](https://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/). She went far beyond what she signed up for, and I'm so grateful.
> 
> Finally, we've added a chapter 7 for some bonus sketches!! ;)


	7. Bonus Materials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GingerSnappish drew some amazing concept sketches while we were hashing out the project, and they were too fabulous not to include!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Come say "hi" on Tumblr: [nerdherderette](https://nerdherderette.tumblr.com/) and [gingersnappish](https://gingersnappish.tumblr.com/)


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